Picture Perfect
by Seijiro Dazai
Summary: Chiaki has finally rejected Yuu, crushing his heart. Yuu isn't sure what to do next–he's been in love with Chiaki for as long as he can remember. Where can he go from here? Maybe Nijiro, his new co-worker, can give him some ideas.
1. A New Co-worker

A/N: I don't own Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi, Nakamura-sensei does. I hope you'll enjoy my new story, and thank you for reading! (Also, by the way, Nijiro means rainbow, in case you didn't know.)

Chapter One: A New Co-worker

The first time Yuu saw Nijiro Hatsuharu, the man was passed out on a desk in Chiaki's study, worn out after one of the mangaka's all-too-common deadline all-nighters.

After he'd shown Chiaki how serious he was about liking him, and been punched in the face for his trouble, Yuu had taken a week off from working with the mangaka, worried about how their friendship might be negatively affected by his actions. But when Hatori had called him and said the mangaka wouldn't make his deadline without him, Yuu figured that was the jealous editor-slash-boyfriend's way of telling him it was okay to keeping working as Chiaki's assistant.

He was apprehensive to begin working with the mangaka again, not knowing how his actions might have changed their relationship, but when he arrived that Thursday, Chiaki wasn't there, having gone out to fetch coffee for his exhausted assistants. Yuu passed through the main room and into the study as usual, and that was when he noticed the extra figure facedown on the desk next to Chiaki's. Yumiko, Aoki, and Megumi had been working with the mangaka so long he expected to see their faces whenever he came to work, but there, slumped at the desk that was usually his, was someone new. The man was collapsed face-first onto the desk, and at first Yuu, unable to see Nijiro's hidden face, assumed he was a girl, as the rest of Chiaki's assistants were. The man was wearing a short-sleeved sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, so Yuu couldn't even see his hair to see if it was long or short for a clue as to his gender. Instead, it was the way the girls were acting that told him the new assistant was a member of his own gender.

"Hey, Yumiko, do you think he has a girlfriend?" Megumi was asking. She was the one who was always thinking about boys, so it was no surprise.

"Seriously, Megu-chan?" Yumiko replied, fixing her long ponytail. "Didn't you have a crush on Yuu just recently?"

Megumi's cheeks flushed red, and Yuu cleared his throat delicately to let them know he was within earshot. The three of them immediately whipped around to face him, Megumi blushing even redder when she realized he had been listening to their conversation.

"Oh, Yuu, you're back," said Aoki, the most serious of the three. Her brown eyes narrowed, "Where have you been? You know Chi-sensei can't cut it without you. Sure, we've got Nijiro-san now, but he doesn't know Chi-sensei's work like you do."

Yuu arched one delicate brown eyebrow skeptically.

"So his name's Nijiro, huh?" He smirked, then strode purposefully up to _his_ desk, where the man slept. He delivered the desk a determined kick, shouting,

"Hey rainbow dick, wake up!"

The man made a sound like death and raised his head slowly, his hood falling gently off of his hair. He had a feminine face, but there was no mistaking he was a man–his face was a little too angular to be confused for a girl's. His endless black eyes, laden with heavy bags, hid under large-framed glasses that had been pushed uncomfortably up against his face by his sudden sleep. He had shaggy black hair, red and bleached streaks slashing angrily over his right temple. The immensely irritated look he wore on his face in reaction to having been woken made Yuu like him instantly: this was the kind of guy who was just like him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked rudely, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Yuu scoffed.

"Excuse me, I've worked here a lot longer that you, I should be asking that," he retorted angrily.

Nijiro ground his teeth, then relented.

"Nijiro Hatsuharu," he introduced, sarcastically adding, "nice to meet you, I'm sure."

Yuu scowled back at him, determined he would be the one to come off as more rude in this introduction. "Yanase Yuu," he shot back, neglecting any introductory courtesy.

Aoki rolled her eyes. "Cut it out, guys," she said, sounding exhausted, "you don't need to have a rudeness contest."

"Who's having a contest?" came a beautifully musical voice from the door. Yuu's heartbeat skipped a beat as it did every time he heard that voice, the voice of the love of his life.

The rude expressions immediately dropped off his and Nijiro's faces, as did the critical expression from Aoki's face. The five assistant turned to face the new arrival as one: they were all a little bit in love with their author, after all.

"Yoshino-sensei!" Nijiro cried happily, "You're back!"

The door opened again, and Yuu was unsurprised by the arrival of Hatori, right on Chiaki's heels. He understood Hatori's jealous protectiveness–the mangaka could be amazingly thick-headed about his own desirability–but he couldn't help resenting the editor for the way he tried to keep anyone from getting too close to Chiaki. It had negatively affected his own quest for Chiaki's heart, after all.

Today, the editor was acting, as usual, as Chiaki's devoted servant, carrying a six-cup carrier full of coffee and a box Yuu assumed was probably full of onigiri for the hungry assistants. There was a noise behind him as Nijiro pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, revived by the sight of the food. He walked up to Hatori and took the box the editor gave him, turning to place it on the long table Aoki, Yumiko and Megumi shared. Yuu's eyes were magnetically drawn towards the open box, which, true to his suspicion, was full of six delicious-looking rice balls. To his surprise, however, Nijiro didn't instantly snatch a rice ball and stuff it into his mouth, as he would have done. Instead, the raven-haired man left the onigiri where they were, slipping past Hatori into Chiaki's kitchen.

 _Huh_ , thought Yuu, _maybe he's a neat-freak and went to wash his hands or something_. It was clearly something the man had done before, though, as none of the others paused even a moment. Aoki, Yumiko, and Megumi each selected a rice ball and took their coffee from Hatori, settling themselves down at their usual stations. Soon enough, Nijiro was back, and when he returned he did as Yuu had expected, cramming one of the remaining onigiri into his mouth with such vehemence Yuu would have been afraid he might choke, had he himself not done the same thing many times before. Practically inhaling the mouthful he had taken, Nijiro strode up to Hatori to take his coffee.

"Which one's mine?" he asked the overbearing editor. Yuu wondered what he could be doing, weren't all the coffees identical? At the same time, however, he smirked at Nijiro's defiant tone towards the editor, hiding his expression behind his rice ball. He recognized his fellow male assistant's tone: it was the same attitude of thinly veiled dislike he displayed towards Hatori.

To his surprise, the editor only set his mouth into a thin line instead of scowling dangerously at the young man.

"This one," he said shortly, indicating the coffee on the end, and Nijiro took the cup, sipping gratefully from the straw.

"Thanks Hatori-chan!" he said, all mock-gratitude and saccharine sarcasm. Hatori bit back an angry reply, not wanting to distress Chiaki, and Yuu internally applauded Nijiro's daring.

Finally, with his typical airheadedness, Chiaki realized the reason why Hatori had bought six cups of coffee–the sixth was for Yuu, not Hatori himself. Yuu could see conflicting emotions run across the mangaka's face as he remembered their last encounter, and Chiaki cast a glance over his shoulder to meet his boyfriend's eyes before welcoming Yuu back.

"Yuu, you're back!" he exclaimed once he had garnered Hatori's permission. Then his expression suddenly became worried as he took in Nijiro lounging in his longtime friend's usual seat, paying no attention to anything but the onigiri on which he was feasting.

"Oh, Yuu, have you met Haru?" he asked nervously. Yuu could see he was concerned his assistant would think that bringing in Nijiro meant Chiaki was planning to replace him. Seeing the anxious look in Chiaki's eyes at the thought of losing his faithful friend and invaluable assistant, Yuu understood why Hatori had decided to allow them to continue working together despite how it would inflame his jealousy every time he saw them together.

"Yeah, we're bffs already, right, Yuu-kun?" Nijiro answered before he could, and Yuu turned to the other assistant, ready to tear him a new one. He was about to chew him out when he saw the man was grinning deviously at him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed the glasses-clad man had come to the same conclusion as he had during their "rudeness contest", as Aoki had dubbed it, and decided they were sure to become fast friends.

He returned his fellow assistant's smirk, saying, "damn right, rainbow princess."

The remark earned him some shock from Chiaki, who could always be guaranteed not to follow any exchange with even the least bit of complexity. Nijiro, however, laughed abruptly and raised an elegant black eyebrow at Yuu, an intimately secret smirk.

Taking his coffee from Hatori, who gave him an irritated look as if to say _watch yourself_ , Yuu sat down at the far end of the girls' table.

"Well," he said as Chiaki took his place at his drafting table, "let's get to work, then."


	2. Yuu Pays for Drinks

A/N: I don't own Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi, given I am not Nakamura-sensei. I hope you liked chapter one (I guess you must have liked it at least a little if you made it to chapter two) and please continue to enjoy Picture Perfect.

Chapter Two: Yuu Pays for Drinks

"Great work today everyone!"

"We're leaving now!"

"Thank for you work today!"

Exchanging the words they always said at the end of a day of drawing, Chiaki's five assistants left his apartment. They had drawn until their fingers were numb, but finally they were done with most, if not all, they had set out to accomplish that day.

As they were riding down in the apartment, Nijiro turned to the others.  
"Let's all go out to dinner to welcome Yuu back," he suggested.

"Yeah!" Yumiko replied instantaneously, and Megumi and Aoki agreed, glad for an excuse to go out to eat. All three knew they were tired enough to not want to cook for themselves when they got home that night, and either didn't have a boyfriend (Megumi and Aoki), or, if they did, he wasn't one with culinary acumen (Yumiko).

"What's your favorite restaurant, Yuu?" Nijiro asked, ceding the right of restaurant choice to the one whose return they were meant to be celebrating. Yuu named his favorite, a simple izakaya, and Aoki, remembering it from previous post-manga drawing dinners, led the way.

Shizundaniwa Izakaya was a small cafe in Minato ward specializing in seafood and overflowing in sake, shochu, and beer of all varieties. Yuu had discovered it one night while wandering aimlessly down by the waterfront, and over time he had gone back on many occasions, introducing it to Chiaki, his fellow mangaka assistants, and other acquaintances; now it would be Nijiro's turn.

When they arrived, the restaurant was bustling; in fact, Yuu had never been there when it was anything less than full. Despite the crowd, however, they were able to sit down almost right away. Nijiro sat across the round table from Yuu, on his right sat Yumiko, on his left Aoki.

"Here are your menus," the waiter said, disappearing away to help some of the many other hungry and thirsty customers.

Nijiro, who seemed to be fiddling with something in his bag under the table, asked Yuu, without looking up at him, "What's good here?"

 _He must be looking to see how much money he has_ , Yuu thought, and he assumed his suspicion was confirmed when the boy winced. _I guess he doesn't have much_.

"The narutomaki and kanikama shoyu ramen's pretty good," he advised, picking an inexpensive dish he liked.

"True," Yumiko agreed–she had tried the dish on a previous visit, "it's pretty low calorie, too."

Yuu didn't think that would be particularly relevant for Nijiro, who was relatively skinny, but the man nodded thoughtfully at Yumiko's words, if only making a show of taking her seriously.

"Ah, and you have to get the Asahi Shochu they have here," Yuu told his new co-worker, insensitively adding, "I'll pay for it if you want."

Yumiko, misunderstanding his meaning (or perhaps covering for his insensitivity), happily called out, "Yuu's paying for drinks!"

Yuu opened his mouth to correct her, then realized he would sound stingy if he did and shut his mouth again. It wouldn't hurt that much to pay for drinks at his own welcome-back dinner.

"Thanks, Yuu-kun," Nijiro said honestly, then caught the light brown-haired man's eyes and gave him a combination wink-and-smirk to show him he knew Yumiko had trapped Yuu into paying for the group's alcohol. Somehow, it eased the burden of having to pay for what he knew would be numerous glasses of a variety of types of alcohol.

They ordered, and a few moments later the waiter brought their drinks. As a table, they had ordered a variety of the establishment's finest–in taste, that is, not cost.

"Kanpei!" they toasted, everyone but Megumi, who was a bit of a lightweight, draining shots of shochu. The parade of drinks suitably begun, Yuu magnanimously poured the sake he'd ordered and passed the miniature porcelain cups around the table.

"So, Yuu," said Nijiro, taking a satisfied sip of sake, "I bet you're wondering how I became one of Chiaki's assistants, since you were "on vacation" when I arrived."

Yuu was, of course, desperately curious about Nijiro's surprise arrival, but he had thought it too impolite to ask so directly. Here, fortunately, was a stroke of luck.

"Well," Nijiro explained, "I used to work primarily for Mutou-sensei, since I lived in Sapporo, but then I decided I wanted a change of scenery, so I came down here to Tokyo to work with Joshuya-sensei, you know, Joshuya Hidenobu, who was looking for an exclusive assistant. Well, I got the job and everything seemed to be working out fine, but if you follow the news at all you no doubt know how that turned out, so I ended out of work. I was looking around for a new job, and Yukina (that is, Mutou-sensei) was kind enough put me in touch with her editor Onodera-kun, suggesting he might have an idea of some mangakas who were looking for assistants, and I guess Onodera knew Hatori was at his wit's end because of Yoshino-sensei (I guess because of _you_ , Yuu), so he pointed me in that direction. I decided I might as well meet Yoshino-sensei, and, well, you know what _that_ guy is like, so of course when he offered me the job, I took it in a heartbeat."

"Wait, you used to work for Joshuya Hidenobu?" asked Megumi, her eyes widening in surprise. "Isn't he the horror mangaka who someone reported for using heroin and he ended up having, like, every illegal drug the attending paramedic had ever heard of?"

Nijiro made a face that was simultaneously disgusted and exhausted.

"Yeah," he replied, "I was the "someone" who reported him, actually. I accidentally showed up early one day and there he was, just about to shoot up. In hindsight, it's hard to believe I didn't realize sooner, but then again, who suspects their artist is a massive drug user?"

"Wow," Yumiko commented.

"Yeah," Nijiro agreed, "I mean, it's not that shocking–pretty standard, actually–that someone who's decided to make their living drawing horror manga would have at least a little something wrong with them. You have to be like that to get the ideas and images for horror. But I mean, like I said, who suspects their artist of _that_?"

Taking a long sip of his sake, Yuu casually wondered how many of Chiaki's readers would suspect he was a gay man. He knew how careful the mangaka was to keep his true gender a secret, no doubt he'd be terrified of the possibility of the fact that he was homosexual getting out if anyone ever did discover "Yoshikawa Chiharu" was a man. Of course, being gay was completely different from being a drug addict, but still. He suspected authors kept more secrets than the average person, and he knew well enough the average person usually kept more secrets than those around them thought.

Yumiko started telling the story of how a couple at her high school had committed suicide by drug overdosed during her senior year. Apparently they had started taking prescription anti-anxiety drugs because of how on edge they were about university entrance exams and had ended up getting addicted. They upped their doses as they became tolerant to the drugs, she said, and eventually felt like nothing could help their anxiety and just took the whole bottle together. Megumi made a sickened face when Yumiko added that they had hidden in the school library until after in closed and committed suicide there, and that their bodies hadn't been discovered until after the weekend, eyes sightlessly wide and bodies paralyzed by rigor mortis.

"Better change the subject before the food gets here," Nijiro commented mildly, seeing Megumi's vaguely nauseous expression.

"Let's talk about Chi-sensei," Aoki said deviously, using the nickname she'd invented to use behind their author's back. A wicked smile had crept onto her face; she wore an expression Yuu recognized as her gossip face. "I bet he has loads of secrets." She turned to Yumiko, adding, "Remember when we thought he might be in a love conflict?"

Nijiro's eyes widened, and he leaned forward, eager to hear more. "A love conflict?"

Yuu, who knew the real story and had actually been a participant in it, was not that interested to hear Aoki tell her version of events, but she steamrolled through any possibility she might not continue talking.

"Yeah, so one day at work Chi-sensei was acting really distracted, and he told us he was thinking about the plot for a new manga. Something about A liking C and B liking A, and B and C having this "really improbably friendship" or whatever. But it was pretty clear that he wasn't talking about a plot but real life, especially because of how insistent he became that it was a plot when I pushed him about it. You know no one gets really indignant like that if it really _is_ a plot."

"Right?" Yumiko agreed, her body position and interest level mirroring Nijiro's despite the fact that she'd heard the story several times before.

"So who were the other two people in the love conflict?" Nijiro asked, lapping up the story like a cat would a bowl of milk.

"Oh, I have no idea," Aoki finished, obviously uninterested in that aspect of the tale. Nijiro's face fell, he was clearly much more interested in that particular detail than Aoki was.

At that very moment the waiter returned to the table and served them their dishes. Nijiro had, per recommendation, ordered the narutomaki and kanikama shoyu ramen, as had Yumiko. Aoki, ever hungry, had chosen katsudon, Megumi, ever dieting, had chosen tofu dengaku, and Yuu himself had ordered mackerel ramen. The moment the waiter placed the bowls in front of them, everyone (except Megumi) started wolfing down their food.

"Wow, I had no idea how hungry I was!" Yumiko exclaimed in between mouthfuls of ramen.

"You can say that again!" Aoki agreed, inhaling her rice.

"Kae-dama!" Nijiro shouted, pointing to his bowl. Aside from the onigiri, the assistants had hardly eaten all day, so it was logical they would be starving.

As the waiter rushed to bring the second helping of noodles, Megumi munched daintily on her tofu, a stark contrast to the rest of the group.

"Don't you worry you'll choke?" she asked the rest of the assistants.

Yuu open a beer and started drinking as he waited for his noodles. Across the table, Nijiro did the same.

"Not really," the new assistant said. "My gag reflex is pretty much nonexistent."

Yuu coughed, he'd accidentally inhaled a little of his beer at Nijiro's words.

"You okay?" the man asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah, a little went down the wrong way," Yuu explained. When the waiter brought the seconds for the two men (Yumiko had been satisfied with one helping), they ate more sedately, their insatiable hunger moderated. As they ate, Yumiko and Aoki sipped their sake, waiting for Megumi to finish. Finally, the curly-haired girl did, delicately wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"You don't mind if we head out, right, Yuu?" Yumiko asked, taking some money out of her purse and dropping it on the table. "It was already late when we got here, and I need my beauty sleep."

Taking a long drink of beer, Yuu shook his head. It was already almost one in the morning; after all, and they were all tired from their work that day.

"Great!" She, Aoki, and Megumi got up, the latter two adding their contributions to the pile of money at the center of the table. Before leaving, Yumiko turned to Nijiro and said, "Don't forget to take your medicine, Haru-san."

"Yeah, yeah," Nijiro replied obediently. The girls said their goodbyes and thanks and left, chatting busily as they did so. The two men, left behind, sat together in silence, Yuu drinking his sake and Nijiro the broth to his ramen. Their energy, it seemed, had left the shop with the girls.

"You ready to go?" Yuu asked when Nijiro had finished his next beer–that was it for the food and drinks they had ordered. Nijiro made a sound of assent and Yuu got up to pay the bill, taking all the money that had been left behind, plus a contribution from Nijiro. When he returned, Nijiro was fumbling around with something in his bag, but when he saw Yuu, he stopped and got up, following the magenta-eyed man out of Shizundaniwa Izakaya.

"Well, that was fun," Nijiro said as they sat on the train together. "Thanks for the recommendation, by the way."

"Yeah," Yuu replied. He looked over at Nijiro and noticed the man swaying slightly with the movement of the train. "You okay, rainbow boy?"

Instead of an answer, Nijiro slumped and slowly slid his head down to rest on Yuu's shoulder, fast asleep.


	3. Two Homes

A/N: Yeah, so I don't own Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy chapter three.

Chapter Three: Two Homes

When Yuu woke up the next morning, his stomach felt like he had swallowed a leaden weight. At first, he was worried he had eaten something bad, since he knew he hadn't drunk too much, but then the weight moved, shifting its position slightly. He lifted his head and looked down towards his feet, noticing a lump under the futon over his stomach. His heart froze as he tried to make sense of the situation. Had some wild animal come into the house somehow–he had no idea how that could happen–in the middle of the night and snuck under the covers with him? Hands shaking slightly with trepidation, he delicately raised the futon to look beneath.

There, resting with his head on his stomach, was Nijiro. Despite the fact that the man had his back to Yuu, he could tell it was the other male assistant because the red and bleached streaks in his hair had been pushed back over his head in his sleep and were lying gently on Yuu's shirt-covered chest. A moment later, Yuu registered that the pressure he'd felt across his legs must be Nijiro's arm laid atop him.

As he gazed down at Nijiro, the events of the previous night came back to him. They had left Shizundaniwa Izakaya sometime after one in the morning, and riding the train back, Nijiro had passed out from fatigue. Because the assistant was new, Yuu didn't know where he lived, so he had been forced to haul the man's luckily relatively light body to his own home.

Yuu narrowed his eyes. When they had arrived and he had gotten Nijiro to his room, he'd laid out a second set of bedding, arranging Nijiro's unconscious body beneath it. So what was the man doing using his stomach as a pillow? He turned his head to look over at where he'd set the futon for Nijiro, and noticed it was thoroughly rumpled and tossed about. Ah, so the black-haired man was a restless sleeper, and had rolled over to join Yuu in the middle of the night. Yuu had to wonder how he'd gotten under his futon in his sleep, and how he'd managed not to suffocate himself, given his head had been completely covered by the futon, but those were not questions he thought he was likely to get the answers to any time soon.

He wasn't that bothered by Nijiro's impromptu snuggling, since his fellow assistant's body was pleasantly warm, but it would cause him some problems getting out of bed. He lay there trying to think of a way to move the man without waking him, but before he could think of something, the dark-haired head moved, and Nijiro awoke.

Noticing where he was, Nijiro rolled over slowly and saw Yuu looking down at him. Now that he no longer wore his glasses, Yuu noticed Nijiro's eyes were darker and deeper than any he had seen. He felt himself being unwittingly drawn in the longer he looked.

Suddenly, Nijiro yawned, closing his eyes, and the spell was broken.

"Good morning, Yuu," the mangaka assistant said. Lifting his head off of Yuu's chest– _ah, that feels better_ –he inched up until his head was level with Yuu's. He lay on his chest, his body stretched out behind him. Crossing his arms in front of him and laying his head casually atop them, he turned his face to his futon companion, smiling at the man.

"What happened? Did I fall asleep on the train?" he asked.

Finally able to lay his head back down, Yuu sighed, readying himself to get up for the day.

"Yeah, I brought you to my place, since I don't know where you live," he replied. Forcing himself to sit up, he got out from under his futon and stood up, stretching. "Your bag's over there, by the way," he added, pointing before strolling off to wash his face.

"Thanks," Nijiro gratefully responded, taking his cue from Yuu to get up. He folded the futon and placed it against the wall, then strode over to his bag.

After Yuu washed his face, he headed into the kitchen to make coffee, still in his pajamas. A few moments later, Nijiro joined him in the kitchen, a few drops of water dripping off the ends of his slightly damp hair. When he saw Yuu making coffee, he made an appreciative noise and leaned his back against the countertop not far from where Yuu stood, waiting for the breakfast essential to finish brewing.

"There's food in the fridge if you want anything," Yuu commented, and Nijiro stretched again and stood away from the counter, walking over to open the fridge. The man took out an apple and bit into it, the juice flowing down his chin. Looking over at him, Yuu discovered he'd put his glasses back on. Shielded by the glass, his eyes were now merely impossibly dark, but Yuu still found himself staring.

Suddenly, in front of him, the coffee machine made a gurgling noise, drawing his attention away from his guest. He returned his gaze to the machine and saw the coffee begin to pour out into the glass pot.

"Sugar or cream?" he asked, taking two mugs out of the cabinet.

"Just black, unless you have artificial sweetener," Nijiro replied. "I can't have sugar in my coffee."

"Sorry," Yuu apologized, internally wondering why the man would say he couldn't have sugar in his coffee. He supposed it _was_ an easy way to add unnecessary sugar into the diet, but, still, from the look on Nijiro's face as he took a drink of the coffee Yuu handed him, the man preferred his coffee to taste a little less like the vile-tasting drink it was. He didn't like sweets, but even he needed both sugar and cream in his cup before he would take a sip. He asked Nijiro if he wanted anything else for breakfast, and the dyed-haired man declined, admitting he usually couldn't eat much in the morning anyway.

"What time is it?" Nijiro asked, and Yuu gave him his answer.

"Good," the mangaka assistant continued, "I want to stop by my place to change clothes before we go to sensei's." He drained his cup, rinsing it and placing it in the sink. "Want to come? That way you'll know where I live for the next time I pass out on you," he joked.

Yuu reflected he might as well, and a few moments later the two were heading out, back towards the subway. Since it was morning, there were many more people riding the train, so they stood together until Nijiro gave the signal for them to disembark. Walking along, they passed a park and finally came up to Nijiro's apartment building. It was a high-rise, thirty floors, all concrete and steel, the kind of building built for function and not beauty. Taking a key out of his bag, Nijiro let Yuu in, and they got into the elevator.

"Yeah, I live on the twenty-eighth floor, so it's pretty high up," Nijiro told him, pressing the button. When they got out of the elevator he led Yuu to his door, adding, "Sorry about the mess, by the way."

When he unlocked the door and they passed through the entryway into the main apartment, Yuu could see what he meant by _the mess_. Every available surface was plastered with drawings, some in color, others in black and white. Most were of landscapes–he recognized a collection of Odori Park year-round–while others showed small sketches of flowers, birds and other small items. On the far wall, above Nijiro's unmade bed hung a set of portraits of a middle aged couple and three pretty women, all wearing matching expressions of confidence and strength. _That must be his family_ , Yuu thought.

"Kari! Kari!" called Nijiro, and Yuu wondered what he was doing for a moment until a ginger streak shot out from under Nijiro's bed and ran up to him, meowing loudly.

"I hope you like cats," the glasses-clad man, said, picking up the cat. Yuu told him he didn't mind them, and his host turned around and presented him with the cat. "This is Kariyama, my cat." Nijiro scratched the cat on its head and put it back down. "Make yourself at home," he told Yuu, "I have to go feed Kari." He walked through the door in the right wall into what Yuu assumed was the kitchen.

Yuu let his eyes wander over the drawings covering Nijiro's wall, which he assumed were the man's own art. The lines were clean and accurate, the drawings not only capturing photographic clarity but also showing the emotion of the moment in which they were drawn. He strode across the room, taking special interest in the pictures he assumed were of Nijiro's family. Closer to them, he could tell his earlier supposition was correct. All of the faces had the same sharp cheekbones he'd seen in Nijiro's face, although they were softer in the faces of Nijiro's mother and sisters. Looking at them, he could see Nijiro had gotten his infinitely deep eyes from his father. On the middle aged man, however, they seemed milder, but that might have been because of the joyful grin Nijiro had drawn on his father.

"Yeah, those are of my family," Nijiro said, coming back into the main room and seeing what Yuu was gazing at. He crossed the room to stand beside Yuu, introducing his family via the portraits he'd done of them. "My parents, obviously, and those are my sisters: Risa, Marika, and Tsumari."

"These are really good," Yuu complimented. He almost felt he could get an impression of each family member's personality from the drawings. Nijiro's father, he could see, was laid back and cheerful, the center of the family's happiness. His mother was the business head of the family, and his sisters, judging by the confidence of their expressions, had followed her down that path.

"Thank you," Nijiro replied graciously. "I mostly do landscapes, as you can see," he gestured at the art surrounding them, "but I had to do portraits of my family when I left home." He left Yuu's side and began rummaging around in his closet. "Drawings are better than photos for that kind of thing, I think."

Yuu understood him to mean that no photo could capture the feeling of a person the way sketches could, and he agreed. There was something special about art done by hand that infused a sentimentality into it.

He turned away from the portraits just in time to see Nijiro standing shirtless, halfway through changing clothes. Instead of turning away, he looked the man up and down, admiring his physique. He was an attractive man, Yuu thought absently, with a delicate bone structure somewhat reminiscent of Chiaki's.

"Ah, sorry," Nijiro said, pulling a black shirt over his head. Yuu made a sound to signify that it didn't bother him and Nijiro returned to the closet, sliding his arms into a scarlet vest, then draping a white scarf around himself. Next he went over to the small nightstand by his bed, taking a small box out of it and dropping it into his bag.

"Alright then, I'm done here," he said, and, with some reluctance, Yuu followed him out of his apartment and back to the elevator. He had wanted to stay and inspect more of the pictures, but he supposed that could wait until next time. For now, they had to go to work.


	4. Nijiro Pays for Drinks

A/N: I don't own Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi. I hope you continue to read and enjoy, and, on that note, here's chapter four.

Chapter Four: Nijiro Pays for Drinks

When the two got on the train to head to Chiaki's for another long day of drawing, Aoki was already aboard.

"Yuu," she greeted, sounding confused. She gave Yuu an odd look, although it might have just been that her brain was too tired to process any new information. "Did you move? I thought you lived by Y– Station," she said, naming the station closest to Yuu's house. Looking at who was with him she added, "Hey, Nijiro," almost as an afterthought.

"Hey Aoki," Nijiro replied, explaining, "we were at my place."

The black-haired woman's eyes narrowed, and she looked from Yuu to Nijiro a few times. Yuu wondered what was on her mind, but suspected even it he had asked her she wouldn't have answered. The three of them rode the rest of the way in silence, meeting up with a tired Yumiko and Megumi at the station. Once the five had assembled and had all bought morning coffee at their usual cafe at the station, they walked together over to Chiaki's apartment building.

The next few days, they took up the typically repetitive routine that always characterized the week before Chiaki's deadlines. They'd get up, meet at the station, buy ever more caffeinated coffee, chat listlessly as they walked over to Chiaki's, and work their fingers to the bone trying to get the manga in on time. Each day Hatori came over at some point to pester Chiaki about not being done already and Yuu would notice as he turned away from giving the editor a dark look that, sitting next to him, Nijiro was doing the same. Evidently the rainbow-named assistant didn't care much for Hatori's persistence either, Yuu thought to himself, shaping the thought into a _see, it's not just me who thinks he's annoying_. Then, in the evening, Yuu, Nijiro and Aoki–sometimes joined by Yumiko (if she wasn't going home to her boyfriend) and Megumi (if she wasn't too tired)–would go out to eat at one of their favorite cheap diners, finally heading home and collapsing into their respective beds, ready to sleep and begin the whole cycle again when they woke up the next morning.

The morning of the deadline finally came, and the assistants reflexively doubled the caffeine intake in their daily coffees in preparation. When they got to Chiaki's apartment, Hatori was already there, and it became immediately obvious to Yuu he'd spent the night with Chiaki. It annoyed him–what was so great about Hatori that made Chiaki chose his editor over Yuu? The assistants passed through the kitchen, where Hatori was washing the dishes after making Chiaki breakfast, and into the study, setting down their bags and jackets to get settled in to work. Once out of Hatori's earshot, Nijiro, who, it seemed, was also bothered by the writer and editor's relationship, turned to Yuu's willing ear to complain.

"Are they going out or something?" he grumbled. "Why is he _always_ here? He has other authors, doesn't he?"

Yuu scoffed. "I guess you don't like him either?"

Nijiro made a dissatisfied sound. "Mm, it's not that I don't like him exactly, I just don't like the way he hangs around Chiaki." He sighed, adding, "Admittedly, I'd do the same thing if I had the chance, but I'll never get it with that guy hanging around."

Yuu wondered that someone who had known the mangaka all of two weeks would have feelings so identical to his own, which had simmered into being through the years he'd known Chiaki. The author just had that effect on people, it seemed. He made a noncommittal sound, agreeing without expressly confessing that he felt the same way.

"Ah, I mean, whatever, though," Nijiro continued, mostly to himself, "He may have a priceless face, but a person can only take so much naivety before it stops being cute. After that it gets kind of hard to believe he doesn't get how compelling he is."

It was strange to hear him voice the thought Yuu had unconsciously had so many times before, no matter how many times he ignored it. Somehow, coming from Nijiro's mouth, the proclamation seemed much more logical and obvious than it had in his own brain. It really did get on his nerves how thick-skulled Chiaki could be about love–so much so that he'd had to force a kiss on the writer before Chiaki realized he wasn't joking about liking him in a romantic and sexual way. But he'd seemingly gotten the message loud and clear from Hatori, Yuu thought. He didn't understand what was so different about his advances that had made them come off as teasing. And who teased about that kind of stuff anyway?

The thoughts circled and looped around in his mind all day as he worked. Every time it seemed like he might be done worrying the same grooves in his mind, he'd happen to look up at Chiaki, and the cycle would start again. Nijiro must have noticed he had something troubling on his mind, because when they were finally finished for the day and heading back towards the train station, he quickened his step to catch up with Yuu, who was walking ahead of the girls.

"Hey, you okay? You looked distracted back there," he said. Not waiting for the brunet to give the answer he knew would never come, he went on. "Want to go out again? I'm too tired to try to cook anyway."

"Sure," Yuu replied, feeling like he'd be more likely to collapse without eating if he went straight home. He turned to Nijiro, smiling tiredly at his fellow assistant to thank him for his thoughtfulness in giving him an excuse to go out. It was weird to eat alone at a restaurant, he'd always thought, and he had only been planning to buy something cold from the convenience store near the station and eat it as he walked home. "You can pick this time," he offered.

"Okay," acknowledged Nijiro, and he turned back to invite the girls to come along.

"Sorry, I'm just too tired," Megumi said, which was pretty much exactly what Nijiro and Yuu had expected her to say.

"Me neither," Yumiko admitted, adding, "Torasuke's waiting for me, and since I don't have to work tomorrow…" She trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows to imply what _no work tomorrow_ might imply for she and her boyfriend.

"Ao-kun?" Nijiro inquired, turning to the black-haired girl who had joined them most commonly on previous nights. Tonight, however, she opted out just as the others had.

"Nah, I think I'm just going to go home and pass out," she responded.

Nijiro turned back to Yuu, yawning and straightening the glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose slightly as he yawned. "Guess it's just you and me then."

A short while later Yuu found himself standing outside the door to a host club, his fatigued brain unable to comprehend what he was doing there. He looked at Nijiro, confused, and the assistant shrugged, saying, "I know, but they have good food here." Because of the deadline, Yuu was too tired to question it, and he followed Nijiro in to the club, where they sat down at a table.

As soon as they sat, a frighteningly skinny but somehow still attractive young man came over to their table, his attire making it clear he worked at the club as a bartender.

"Hatsuharu-kun!" he exclaimed, his rapid movements made frenetic by his impossible thinness. "I haven't seen you here in ages!"

"Heihachiro," Nijiro said, lazily lengthening the pronunciation of the name. "Yeah, I had work."

Heihachiro bobbed his head understandingly. "What can I get you? The usual?"

"Hmm?" Nijiro asked, then replied, "oh, yeah." He turned to Yuu. "Want anything to drink, Yuu?"

Yuu nodded and named a favorite beer of his, and Heihachiro hurried away to get their drinks. As they sat there waiting for their drinks, Yuu inspected the club around them. The lights were fairly dimly lit, with the primary illumination coming from paper lanterns strung about over the tables; as a result, each table looked as if it was in its own pocket universe. The lanterns were of all different colors, giving the light they emitted a stained glass effect. Adding to the kaleidoscopically dappled low light was the sound of soft electronic music being played throughout the club, it pulsed quietly, the club's subtle heartbeat. Around him at the tables Yuu could see other customers, mostly women but a few men as well, chatting with men who, by their dress, were clearly the club's hosts. He was intrigued by the fact that no host had come to talk to them, but reasoned that Nijiro's exchange with the bartender must have in some way indicated they were here for food and drinks only, preventing the summoning of a host.

A moment later Heihachiro returned with their drinks, and Yuu and Nijiro drank gratefully, both thirsty from their long day of work. The bartender disappeared, and returned again with two plates of sushi, which he set before the two customers before re-vanishing.

When Yuu looked at Nijiro with some confusion, the black-haired man explained, "I told Hei to get us what I usually eat when I come here. It's the best dish on the menu, in my opinion, so I thought I'd order it for you, too." He set down his drink and picked up one of the sets of chopsticks Heihachiro had brought with their meal, then added, "Panko snow crab sushi is what it is, by the way."

Yuu took the remaining pair of chopsticks, joining in the chorus of "Itadakimas". Reaching out to the plate in front of him, he took a piece of sushi and delivered it to his mouth. His eyes widened as it reached his taste buds, he hadn't expected food at a host club to taste this good.

"Delicious," he commented.

"I'm glad you like it," Nijiro replied, smiling through the sushi he'd just jammed into his mouth.

As they ate and drank, they talked about work, how it was to live life as a freelance mangaka assistant. Yuu learned that Nijiro had been invited to start working with Nakajima-sensei, another mangaka with whom he worked, and he gave him a primer to what it was like to be the mangaka's assistant: his artistic style, way of managing his assistants, and odd quirks. Unlike Chiaki, Nakajima's work was shonen manga, his a long-running adventure series famed for its complex characters and beautiful scenery, and it was the latter for which the assistants were mostly responsible. Nijiro's eyes lit up as the prospect of drawing fantastical landscapes and Yuu, remembering the pictures he'd seen in the artist's room, imagined he would probably be a perfect fit for the job.

Embroiled as he was in the conversation, Yuu barely noticed Heihachiro had been returning now and then to refill his beer until he finished his sushi and registered it was strange his beer should still be full. It didn't bother him–the deadline was over, and he, like Yumiko, didn't have work tomorrow–but he wondered briefly at the cost. As quickly as the thought had come, he dismissed it: post-deadline was the perfect time to indulge oneself a little.

As soon as Heihachiro removed their empty plates from the table and walked away back to the kitchen, Nijiro got up, said simply, "I'll be right back," and strode off after him. Yuu wondered briefly what was up, but he had already drank enough not to care very much, so instead he took another drink of his beer and waited for Nijiro to return. Soon enough, the glasses-clad man did, slumping back down into his chair, and, with an air of randomness, explained cryptically, "Just wanted to get that out of the way before I drink any more."

 _Ah_ , thought Yuu _, he must have gone to pay for our meal and pre-pay for drinks_. He reasoned that Nijiro's method of deciding who paid must be based on who had chosen the restaurant. That, or he was simply wanting to pay Yuu back for paying for their drinks at Shizundaniwa. He wasn't concerned with which reason it was, only glad of the man's generosity. Briefly, in the back of his mind, a thought drifted by telling him that he had thought Nijiro didn't have very much money and so shouldn't be paying, but he dismissed it, the night's alcohol clouding his mind and convincing him not to question Nijiro's financial affairs.

Across from him, Nijiro took another drink from his glass of shochu and set the glass down a little too hard, his reflexes clearly affected by the alcohol.

"I bet working for Nakajima-sensei isn't much like working for Chiaki," he said, laughing to himself, his sense of humor inflated as he strayed towards drunk.

Draining his glass, Yuu felt his senses start to blur and his self-control start to waver, but tonight he had decided he wasn't worried if he got drunk.

"Yeah, well, a professional working relationship is bound to be different that one where you work for a guy you've been in love with since middle school," he replied.

Nijiro snickered, "Oh, is that what that's all about?"

Yuu rolled his eyes at him, and the black-haired man added, "I mean, I get it, it's impossible _not_ to develop a crush on him, but, since middle school?" Nijiro narrowed his endlessly black eyes at him, an effect that came off as somewhat comic given the alcohol-induced looseness of the rest of his features. "You never said anything to him about it though, right?"

Yuu slightly shamefacedly admitted he had not.

Taking another drink, Nijiro bluntly asked, "Why not?"

Yuu sighed. It was a question he had asked himself many times since he had discovered Chiaki had begun a relationship with Hatori. Why had he not asked Chiaki out while they were in school? Maybe if he had confessed to the beautiful man before Hatori had, he would be his boyfriend, instead of the editor.

"I guess I thought he was straight," he responded.

Nijiro scowled slightly, his frown made strangely cute by his shochu.

"But he's not, right? I mean, he _is_ dating _that_ guy, isn't he?"

Yuu growled, his anger heightened as he listed towards drunk. "Screw him."

Now Nijiro smiled cleverly, "That's more like it."

Then his face became solemn as he reached the "wise-on-booze" stage. "But if you know Chiaki's in a relationship, why don't you move on?"

Yuu thought deeply before answering, the beer and the company allowing him to face a question he had avoided thinking about so many times before. Now that Chiaki had definitively rejected him, what was he to do about the years of his life he'd put into loving the man? If there was no point in pursuing Chiaki, shouldn't he be doing something else instead? But he hadn't been able to get past that point, instead stubbornly insisting to himself that he must remain true to the love fire to which he'd added so much fuel time and again over the years.  
"I guess I've just been in love with him too long," he confessed.

Nijiro swallowed the rest of his shochu. "Then start trying to get over him," he encouraged, his words slowed and made slightly disjointed by his drink, "there are guys out there who'd love to be with you, take my word for it." He winked at his fellow assistant, then started laughing for no apparent reason. Despite their somber talk, Yuu was infected by his laugh, and soon the two were laughing uncontrollably, motivated by no other humor than that induced mystically by alcohol and companionship.

They stayed at the host club after most of the other patrons had left, laughing, drinking and talking, eventually passing out at the tables, which was where Heihachiro discovered them when he went to clear their drinks.

"Ah, well," he said quietly, careful not to disturb their slumbers. "I guess this is why Haru left an "emergency pickup contact" with me earlier."

He returned to the counter, dialing in the club's phone, until the party on the other line picked up.


	5. Emergency Pickup Contact

A/N: I don't own Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi. Thank you for continuing to read and I hope you like chapter five!

Chapter Five: Emergency Pickup Contact

When Yumiko heard her phone ringing, it was four in the morning, definitely no time for her to be waking up. But she assumed anyone daring to call her at that hour must be calling over something important, so she unearthed her body from under her boyfriend Torasuke's arm and crawled over to the phone, picking up.

"Um, hello?" came a tentative, male, and completely unfamiliar voice from the other end.

"What is your problem?" she asked venomously. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Um, actually, that's part of why I'm calling," the voice admitted. "The club's about to close, and they're passed out. But Haru gave me this number as his emergency pickup contact just in case that happened, so…"

Slowly, his words permeated her sleep-befuddled brain. One word in particular, in fact. _Haru_.

"Nijiro?" she questioned.

"Yeah?" the man replied, worried she'd hiss at him again. He was right to be anxious, for that was exactly what she did.

"That *********!" she spat out, stringing together several creative curses. She could practically hear the man flinch on the other end of the line, and in some corner of her mind she told herself she shouldn't be so mean to him for something that wasn't his fault. She sighed deeply, standing up slowly. "Emergency pickup contact, huh?" she inquired, her voice full of scorn.

"Yeah?" the man repeated, even more nervous after her outburst.

She growled into the phone, but relented. She couldn't just leave Nijiro there, after all.

"Fine," she said darkly, taking the address of the club and promising she'd be there soon.

As soon as she hung up the phone, all of the anger drained out of her, replaced by exhaustion. Treading carefully so as not to wake Torasuke, she dressed casually in sweats, grabbed her bag, and headed down to the street, calling a cab as she did so.

The morning air was damp and chilly, and Yumiko pulled her hoodie tighter around her until the cab showed up and she got in. Directing the driver to the address her caller had provided, she leaned back against the leather seats and focused on not falling asleep.

Not long after, the cab pulled up outside her destination, and she got out, asking the driver to wait until she returned with new passengers.

She stepped inside the club. It was dim, lit only by multicolored lanterns, and her eyes had trouble adjusting to the change. When they finally did, she saw a broad bar counter, and, standing behind it, a man of stark thinness and an anxious expression.

"Reikita Yumiko-san?" he asked hesitantly. Evidently this was the man she had spoken to on the phone and scared by her just-woken ire. She nodded, approaching the bar.

"Yes, that's me," she acknowledged, adding, "sorry about this morning. I'm afraid I was a little harsh with you, but I had just woken up."

He smiled, but it was clear she still made him nervous. "Oh, the fault is mine for calling you so early. But, well, we _are_ about to close, and, um…" he trailed off, gesturing to a table deeper within the club. There, Yumiko saw Nijiro slumped over the table, passed out. Similarly positioned next to him was Yuu, and Yumiko realized this must be where they had gone for dinner after the three female assistants had left them at the station. It was a little odd that they were at what seemed, to her eye, to be a host club, but neither of the two men had made any secret of their homosexuality to their female co-workers, so she supposed it wasn't that out of place. Making her way over to the table, she confirmed that both were fast asleep. Well, she'd just have to take them home, then.

"Bartender?" she called, and the man came to her side. "Help me carry these two? I've got a cab outside."

Displaying a surprising amount of strength, the skinny man pulled Nijiro up so the man's arm was over his shoulders, leaving Yumiko to do the same with Yuu. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried the two unconscious assistants out to Yumiko's cab, where the driver helped her get them into the back.

"Back the way we came?" the driver asked, and Yumiko shook her head, rattling off Yuu's address. She, Aoki, and Megumi had been to their male co-worker's house a few times before, on occasions where they'd decided to stay in instead of going out, so she knew the way. As soon as the words left her lips; however, she realized she had no idea where Nijiro lived. The man had only been her co-worker for two weeks, and she hadn't yet been to his apartment. _Oh well_ , she thought, _I'm sure he wouldn't mind sleeping over at Yuu's_.

When they arrived, the driver helpfully assisted her as she brought the two men into the house, leaving them in the entryway. Smiling tiredly, she thanked him and sent him on his way, thinking it wasn't worth it to have him wait all the time it would take her to tuck her colleagues in. One at a time, she lifted first Yuu and then Nijiro from the entryway into Yuu's bedroom, taking out the bedding from where she knew to find it and nestling them within it. She removed Yuu's sweater and Nijiro's jacket and scarf, tossing them to the side, then, watching them sleep, considered half-heartedly the idea of calling a new cab to take her home. Seeing their chests rise and fall contentedly, she decided against the idea, and sent a quick text to Torasuke to let him know she'd be staying at Yuu's house for a while. She needed to get some sleep before she went back out into the world or she was liable to pass out with no warning. Taking out a third set of bedding, she laid it on the side of Yuu opposite to Nijiro and laid down, falling asleep as soon as she swaddled herself in the futon.

When she woke up, sunlight was streaming in and her head no longer ached, so she stretched and sat up. Remembering she was at Yuu's house, she turned to look at her host, and saw Nijiro instead. Looking closer, she realized Yuu was still there, albeit underneath Nijiro's unconscious body. _Okay_ , she thought _, I didn't know_ that _was happening_ , assuming Yuu and Nijiro had become a couple without her knowledge. She rationalized that they must have become close as a result of being Chiaki's two gay male assistants, and, during some one of the nights out she hadn't attended, decided to start going out. They certainly seemed comfortable with each other, and she was happy for them.

She had folded up her futon and was attempting to leave as quietly as possible when Nijiro stirred and woke. Looking up, he saw her standing there and muttered quietly (trying not to disturb the still-sleeping Yuu beneath him), "Good morning, Yumiko."

"Good morning, Nijiro," she replied, her voice dropping to a similar whisper.

He glanced around him, taking in all the facts of his surroundings. "Thanks for picking us up," he said gratefully. "And sorry about making you wake up so early to come fetch us."

Yumiko smiled, no longer angry now that sleep had refreshed her. "Hey, it had to be someone, and we both know it wasn't going to be Megu-chan," she joked.

Nijiro cracked a smile, then added, "I see you brought us both to Yuu's–I guess you don't know where I live yet. I'll show you sometime; actually, I'm surprised I haven't had you over already."

Unable to help herself, Yumiko commented, "Doesn't seem like I was wrong to bring you to Yuu's." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, implying what she supposed of their relationship.

For a second, Nijiro looked confused, then realization dawned on his face.

"Oh, this," he said, gesturing at his relative position to Yuu with a short tilt of his head. "I'm a serial snuggler. Honestly, you made a good decision sleeping on the other side of him, otherwise it could have been you that I bodily suffocated."

Yumiko wasn't convinced, but she knew Nijiro well enough to know that he wouldn't deny a relationship. Either this thing with Yuu was too new to call it a relationship (they had only know each other a week, after all), or he was telling the truth, and it really was nothing more than a strange form of sleepwalking.

"I'm heading out," she said, deciding not to question him further. "Tell him I said hi when he wakes up."

Nijiro promised he would, and Yumiko turned to leave. Before she did, however, she noticed him lay his head softly back down on Yuu, and thought that whatever the situation between the two men, Nijiro certainly didn't mind snuggling with Yuu. After all, he hadn't returned to his own crumpled bedding, choosing instead to stay with the other man.


	6. Nakajima's House

A/N: Insert typical denial of ownership here. Thanks for reading and enjoy chapter six.

Chapter Six: Nakajima's House

When Nijiro arrived at the train station closest to Nakajima's house that Monday morning, Yuu was leaning up against the wall near the ticket-reading gates, waiting for him.

"Yuu-kun!" the black-haired man cried out, giving him a huge wave. Yuu threw up his hand and returned the gesture, if in a more subdued fashion.

When Yuu had finally woken up that Saturday morning, he had thought for a moment that he was suffocating until he realized it was only Nijiro lying on top of him. Looking over to his left, he saw Nijiro's bedding crumpled up and assumed it was another episode of the sleep-snuggling the man had admitted to being afflicted with. Closing his eyes and descending into his memories of the night before, he remembered going to a club with Nijiro, drinking and talking until early in the morning. He assumed either they'd come back to his house late, drunk, or that someone had taken them there: probably Yumiko or Aoki, he reasoned. As he stirred, stretching, he had woken Nijiro, and his fellow assistant had confirmed his hypothesis, saying he'd left word with the bartender to have Yumiko come pick them up and that he'd woken briefly earlier just in time to see her leaving. Just as they had that Tuesday morning, the two enjoyed a cup of coffee and light breakfast together, chatting until Nijiro said he had better head home to shower and change. Yuu had promised to meet him at the station that Monday morning in order to guide him to Nakajima's house, and now here they were.

"Hey, how was the rest of your weekend?" he asked the glasses-clad man.

"Great," Nijiro replied. He told his friend how, that Saturday, he'd gone to an art museum he had never visited before, and Yuu nodded knowingly at the name–he'd been there before many times. "Oh, and I went to sketch that shrine in Shibuya on Sunday," he added.

"Yeah?" Yuu commented, "you'll have to show me your drawings sometime."

"Sure," Nijiro responded easily, "next time you come over to my place."

"Okay," Yuu agreed. He had wanted to go back to his friend's place to take a better look at his drawings since they'd visited Nijiro's apartment that Tuesday morning, and this would be the perfect chance to do so. He had been impressed by the man's artistic abilities during that brief trip; it had him interested in inspecting more of Nijiro's work up close. Turning towards the exit, he continued, "Let's get going. We don't want to be late to Nakajima-sensei's."

Nijiro made a noise of assent and followed him out of the station and down the street. Nakajima Kosaku, famed creator of _Katsutoshi's Last Day_ and _The Road Ends Here_ , lived in a suburb of Tokyo; out here, the buildings were mostly tired traditional houses and short apartment complexes blandly constructed out of grey concrete, each identical to the next. Nakajima's house was an old family house, his parents long gone out to live in Tateyama in Kurobe, enchanted by the high white walls of the Alpine Route. Standing outside the slightly rundown house, it was hard to believe that the inhabitant was the author of such well-received stories, but who finds the time to work on their house these days, Nijiro thought.

"Yeah, Nakajima-sensei's a bit of slob," Yuu told him, reiterating, as he'd told him Friday night, that the mangaka was apt to leave books, papers, and all manner of random objects strewn about every room of his house. He would go out and buy a new book, or someone would give him a celebratory gift, and he'd just set it down without making any attempt at organization or deliberate arrangement.

The two pushed through the front gate and walked up to the house, passing through the door. Removing their shoes in the entryway, they entered the hallway beyond and made their way to Nakajima's study at the back of the house.

Several assistants were already there, snacking and chatting about their weekend escapades. Here, Yuu and Nijiro weren't the only men; in fact, Nakajima's assistants were predominantly male. Seeing Yuu, they waved, recognizing him. Yuu walked over to them and introduced their two leaders to Nijiro.

"Sasaki-san, Kurosawa-kun, this is Nijiro, he's just starting today," he said, speaking to a boyish, athletic-looking woman who wore her brown hair in a neat bun and a smiling, gregarious man who waved his hands about hectically as he spoke. Turning to his co-worker, Yuu introduced him to the two. "Nijiro, these two are Sasaki Narumi and Kurosawa Yoji, Nakajima-sensei's two chief assistants. They're in charge of everything here."

"Nijiro Hatsuharu," Nijiro said, bowing and making note of their faces. "Pleased to meet you."

"We make sure this ship sails problem-free," Sasaki said, grinning at Nijiro. "If you have any questions about Ko-sensei's weirdness, just let us know."

"We look forward to working with you," Kurosawa added, gesturing to underscore his point.

Yuu went around introducing Nijiro to meet some of the other assistants as the rest of the artists arrived. Nakajima's crew had many more people than Chiaki's, logical given his manga was a more involved adventure series. All in all, there were probably fifteen of them there when the mangaka finally made his appearance. Nakajima Kosaku was an entirely different man from Yoshino Chiaki, as different from the other mangaka as shojo from shonen as genres. Nakajima was older, in his forties, with early light traces of silver mixed in at the temples of his thick black hair. Here, in his own home, he was dressed casually in the short-sleeved shirt and sweatpants he typically wore to be most comfortable when drawing. On his feet he wore _Katsutoshi's Last Day_ themed slippers and he held a large mug of what could equally have been either coffee or tea in his hand.

"Nakajima-sensei," the assistants chorus, turning and bowing to their author.

"Good morning, everyone," he replied. "Ready to get to work?" He raised his eyebrows and smiled, hinting at the hard day of work ahead. His deadlines were much harsher than Chiaki's and he made a valiant effort to meet them, working his assistants hard to make it happen.

"Ah, Nakajima-sensei, we have a new co-worker," Kurosawa said, stepping up and gesturing at Nijiro. Following Kurosawa's pointing hands, Nakajima noticed the unfamiliar face, and beckoned the glasses-clad man to come forward.

Approaching, Nijiro introduced himself. "Nijiro Hatsuharu, sensei. It's a pleasure to be drawing with you."

"Thank you, Nijiro-kun," Nakajima replied. "Welcome to the team." Returning his new assistant's bow, he strode to his drafting table at the head of the room and motioned the assistants to be seated. As they did, Yuu motioned Nijiro to sit with him.

"Over here by me, rainbow-head," he told Nijiro. "I'll show you what's what."

Nijiro gave him a grateful look and settled into the seat beside him. The rest of the day Yuu held true to his promise, keeping a watchful eye over Nijiro to make sure he was able to adjust well to the different working environment with Nakajima. Nijiro, for his part, was a quick learner, and, just as Yuu had expected, did well drawing the extravagant landscapes that characterized the mangaka's work. They lunched together, chatting about the story they were drawing, which was a new chapter in Nakajima's newest manga, _Bridge of Thunder_ , which the author had just begun writing the previous winter. Nijiro had read the author's most famous work, _The Road Ends Here_ –everyone had–but he hadn't started _Bridge of Thunder_ , and Yuu offered to lend him his collection so he could bring himself up to date. Nijiro agreed, saying it was best to be familiar with the background of what you were working on, even if just to know what general landscapes had looked like in the past.

The day came to an end at a reasonable hour, since Nakajima wanted to be done with working before his wife and children came home, so Yuu and Nijiro walked with some of the other assistants back to the train station.

"You know, I think I'm actually going to cook dinner tonight," Nijiro said, moments before Yuu had been about to ask him if he wanted to go out again. Yuu nodded, his unspoken question answered, and Nijiro continued, "I'll have to go shopping, though. There's not much in my fridge after last week." He chuckled, and Yuu mentally agreed. He'd have to do the same if he was going to eat in tonight. That would probably be a good idea for cost reasons, he told himself. It was pretty expensive to eat out every night.

Both resolved, they parted ways at the train station, promising to meet there again the next morning before work. Nijiro thanked Yuu for his mentorship that day, and Yuu assured him it wasn't a problem. They were friends as well as co-workers, after all. Nijiro smiled to hear him say it, and with that, they headed onto their respective trains, homeward bound.


	7. An Engine Revs

A/N: Don't own SIH. Please continue to enjoy reading with this, the seventh chapter.

Chapter Seven: An Engine Revs

A few days later, Yuu and Nijiro were once again getting ready to leave Nakajima's house after another day of drawing on _Bridge of Thunder_. They were chatting about the day's storyline, which included the hero, named Raijin after the god of thunder, dealing with the repercussions of an encounter with one of the Lotus Daughters, the story's eerie villainesses.

"Don't you think it's harder to do the scenes that are actually _on_ the bridge?" Nijiro was asking his maroon-eyed friend as they put their shoes on in the entryway. "I mean, it's mostly sky, but it has to seem _alive_ , you know?"

Yuu made a sound of agreement, zipping up the dull purple jacket he was wearing. To his right, Nijiro was shouldering a black leather jacket over the turquoise collared shirt he had rolled up to his elbows. The man ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair as he spoke, inadvertently flipping the red and bleached streaks from one side of his head to the other.

Just as Nijiro slung his usual bag over his shoulder, the two men now ready to leave, there was a loud sound from outside. It sounded like a low growl, and Yuu, distracted by thoughts of the story, at first thought it was the sound of thunder.

"Was that thunder?" he asked his friend. "Because if it is, I'm screwed. I didn't bring an umbrella or anything."

When he looked over at Nijiro, however, he could tell the sound wasn't that of an atmospheric disturbance–the man had brightened up the instant he heard the sound. Yuu's eyes traced from the brilliant grin on his face to the excited energy building up in every muscle of the man's body, wondering what would meet them outside. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

"That's not thunder," Nijiro said, his wide smile growing even wider. "That's Marika." His feet grew light as he skipped out the door, leaving Yuu to follow in his wake. Wondering what his fellow assistant could mean, Yuu obediently trailed in his footsteps.

What stood outside struck him immediately (and somewhat irrationally), like a scene in a cyborg spy movie; specifically one of those with a cybernetically sexy femme fatale spy character. A woman, dressed head to toe in black leather, was slung casually over an enviably sleek motorcycle. A black reflective helmet hung over one handlebar, her hair, freed from the helmet, streamed out behind her, tossed by the afternoon's light breeze. It was the motorcycle that had made the noise; it was still growling like a living thing.

Seeing the two men standing at the curb, she turned the key, and the motorcycle's roar was silenced. Swinging on her leg over to stand next to the bike, she turned to the two men and took off her sunglasses, and it was then that Yuu recognized her. It was her eyes, deep, dark, and ever drawing-in that clued him in–that Marika, the name Nijiro had named inside, meant Nijiro Marika, one of the man's older sisters. Once the idea was in his head it clicked, his mind mapping the drawing he had seen in Nijiro's room against the woman's face: it fit perfectly, as he had known it would. As if to further corroborate the identification, Nijiro rushed up to the woman, calling out, "Onee-san!"

A grin appeared over the woman's face, shattering what remained of Yuu's cool cyborg femme fatale illusion completely. She held out her arms to hug her younger brother, replying to his greeting, "Haru-chan!"

Once the two had hugged, Nijiro turned, having not forgotten his friend's presence there.

"Mari, this is Yanase Yuu, my friend and co-worker," he introduced. "Yuu, my second older sister, Marika."

"Nice to meet you, Yanase-kun," Marika said, bowing to the brunet. "As cliched as it may be to say this, any friend of my brother's is a friend of mine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Nijiro-onee-san," Yuu replied, returning the greeting and bow. "Nice bike," he added, gesturing at the motorcycle behind her.

To his surprise, it was Nijiro who responded, "Thank you." The dark-eyed man must have seen the confusion in his friend's maroon eyes, because he smiled and explained, "The bike is actually mine, Mari had just been borrowing it for a while because I was moving."

Yuu couldn't hide the impressed reevaluation that shone in his eyes as he assessed Nijiro, scanning over the man as he stood next to the motorcycle. He seemed to be checking something in the dials and sensors of the dashboard, and Yuu remarked at how natural he looked standing with it. Now that he knew that Nijiro rode a motorcycle, he could hardly imagine the man as someone who didn't, despite the fact that he had thought that only a few moments before. He had always thought motorcycles were cool, and to see one so close within his grasp, the memory of its sound still reverberating in his ears, only confirmed his fascination.

Nijiro must have seen the way he was looking at the bike, because he took the helmet and pulled it onto his head. He cast a quick glance of sibling telepathy at Marika, who nodded infinitesimally, then turned over to Yuu, grinning at his friend.

"Want to go for a ride?" he asked, winking one of his impossibly abyss-deep eyes.

Yuu forced himself not to say yes immediately and wildly enthusiastically. "What about your sister?" he asked, wondering that Marika would be stranded out by Nakajima's house in a city foreign to her.

Marika waved her phone and answered, "I have GPS and Haru's address. Don't worry about me." She took Nijiro's bag and the two exchanged a wild smile. "Have fun, little brother."

Nijiro swung a leg over the bike and turned the key in the ignition, bringing the beast's roar defiantly back to life. Yuu could feel his heartbeat speed up, and when Nijiro beckoned him over, he made himself keep his steps measured and calm. Swinging his leg over the bike just as his friend had done, he sat down behind Nijiro, feeling the rumble of the bike's engine beneath him.

"Better hold on tight," Nijiro's voice came deeply, vibrating with the rhythm of the bike, and Yuu obediently shifted his weight closer to the black-haired man's until his chest rested up against the other man's back. He reached his arms out, lacing them around Nijiro's waist. As the man felt the arms fasten around his waist, tethering them together, he revved the engine, tossing his sister a wave of farewell. Flipping the reflective visor down over his eyes, he opened the throttle, and, with an acceleration that set Yuu's heart racing to record new speeds, pulled away from Nakajima's house.

Yuu barely registered the squeal of the tires as they spun into motion, Nijiro pulling out onto the empty road. He was too busy crushing Nijiro as tightly as he could, clinging onto him for dear life as they flew down the street; the light breeze that had cooled his skin whipped up into a furious gale by their enhanced speed. He felt as if the very breath in his lungs was being stolen away by the rapidity of their momentum. Glancing down at the speedometer for a second, he registered that they weren't going nearly as fast as it felt like they were. Still, the knowledge didn't dispel the mixture of terror and elation burning its way through his veins. He had traveled this fast in a car and train before, but it was different being exposed to the elements. Nijiro darted effortlessly around the few cars that were out on a Thursday afternoon, driving away from the city center so as not to encounter traffic.

"Having fun?" Came the rumble of his voice through Yuu's chest. He made a sound of agreement, not trusting the wind not to tear any words he might say right out of his mouth.

After what seemed like both a lifetime and a mere instant, Nijiro slowed the bike, turning back to the city. Yuu felt his heartbeat abandon the reckless tempo it had adopted and he relaxed his death-grip on Nijiro.

"My god, you drive fast," he commented, settling back ever so slightly. Nijiro chuckled good-humouredly, his laugh vibrating through both men's bodies.

"Is that a compliment?" he asked, and Yuu imagined he was grinning wryly under his helmet.

The two wove through the streets and avenues of Tokyo until they reached the park Yuu recognized from his last visit to Nijiro's apartment. Pulling up in front of the building, Nijiro slowed and stopped, killing the engine with a flick of his wrist.

"Want to come up for coffee?"

Yuu, realizing they had stopped, laboriously unclasped his arms from around Nijiro's waist: they had gotten cramped in that position because of how tensely he had been holding them. He leaned back, breathing deeply to slow his racing pulse.

"I don't think my heart could take the caffeine, but I'll have tea if you've got it," he replied, his lips quirking into a smile.

Nijiro snapped up the visor, revealing the devious grin on his face at Yuu's remark. Reaching his hands up, he pulled off the helmet and shook his mussed-up hair, tossing the dyed sections back and forth as he did so.

"Don't worry, I've got it," he told his friend, sending the man a wink. It took Yuu a moment to remember that the other man was talking about the tea he'd asked for. Following his friend up to his apartment, they discovered Marika was waiting for them at the door.

"Had the directions, didn't have the key," she informed them ruefully.

"Sorry," Nijiro apologized shamefacedly, taking the aforementioned item out of his pocket. Unlocking the door, he added, "Come on in, Yuu, Mari."


	8. All in the Family

A/N: Don't own SIH. Please enjoy chapter eight.

Chapter Eight: All in the Family

The three stepped into Nijiro's apartment together, simultaneously kicking off their shoes in the entryway. Marika headed instantly off to the side, to the bathroom, and Yuu and Nijiro were left alone standing in their slippers on the hardwood floor.

"Welcome back," the black-haired man told his brown-haired friend, leading him into the familiar room. He headed into the kitchen to get the tea he'd offered Yuu, and the man was left alone in the image-bedecked space again. A pair of maroon eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on new drawings of a familiar shrine. He remembered Nijiro had told him earlier that week he'd sketched the shrine that weekend, and he approached the pictures, inspecting them. One showed the arching, broad rooflines and strong pillars, another the proudly tall torii gate, the people drawn below for contrast looking up at its towering height, awed. They were sketched by a master hand, the emotions of the artist at the time of creation coming through as strongly as Nijiro must have felt them when he was drawing. Again he was amazed by the boy's skill; the attention to detail he put into the landscapes was much more impressive than Yuu's own. As his eyes drifting up to the Odori Park series hanging on the wall above the shrine illustrations, Yuu imagined he'd get tired of tracing in the same place again and again. A person he could do: he'd sketched Chiaki over and over, the beautiful man making the minutes feel like seconds. But a place wouldn't have the same emotional capture for him.

"Oh, right, those are the ones I did this weekend," Nijiro's voice came from right behind him, and he was jolted out of his reverie, surprised by the sudden realization of the man's proximity to him. As it happened, his startled jump propelled him back into the man, and his back thumped against Nijiro's chest, nearly knocking him down. He took another sudden leap in the opposite direction, reversing himself to face his friend.

Nijiro's face was covered in a smile. "Good thing I didn't uncap the tea," he remarked, offering the maroon-eyed man the bottle in his hand. Yuu took it gratefully, twisting the cap off and gulping down almost half of the beverage in one go.

"Someone's thirsty," Nijiro commented, his sly voicing making the words carry a double entendre, his eyebrows darting up and down in the blink of an eye.

"I think our motorcycle ride dehydrated me," Yuu replied, smirking.

"Got anything to eat, little brother?" Marika asked, joining them in the apartment's main room. She had taken off her leather jacket, revealing the loose J-Pop band themed shirt with elbow length sleeves she wore below it. It contrasted completely with the leather pants she still had on, creating a slightly disorienting impression as Yuu scanned her up and down. She'd twisted her long hair up into a messy bun and now looked much more like an older sister than the cyborg femme fatale he'd initially taken her for.

"Help yourself," her younger brother replied, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Grab me some while you're in there, too." He turned to his guest. "You hungry?"

Yuu nodded, and Marika disappeared through the door to excavate something from the fridge. Nijiro flopped down gracelessly in the swivel chair at his desk, grabbing a pad of paper with one hand as he spun around aimlessly from the motion of his collapse onto the chair. Yuu sat down rather more collectedly on the sofa, moving a stack of manga. As he did, he noticed it was the _Bridge of Thunder_ volumes he'd leant his friend. He picked up the book on the top of the stack, flipping through it casually.

"How do you like it?" he asked, his back turned to his black-haired friend. Nijiro didn't reply, so he shifted and looked over his shoulder so he could see the man, setting his arm over the back of sofa as he did so.

"Nijiro?" he questioned.

"Hmm?" Nijiro asked, glancing up absently from a rough outline he'd just begun. He had set one foot up on the seat of the chair and propped his notepad on his knee, his face inches from the paper. Now, hearing the brunet's voice, he pulled his head back from the page, gently straightening his glasses, which had slipped down his nose slightly as he drew. His hand moved away from the page to hang at his side, the pen dangling delicately in his grasp. Yuu watched his friend's black eyes refocus at the switch from proximity to distance, their black hole-like gravity reaching out to engulf him.

He abandoned the question, more interested in what his dark-eyed friend was working on than what he thought of Nakajima's latest series. Getting up from the couch, he strode over to Nijiro, curious to see the emerging artwork.

"What are you drawing?" he asked, trying to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of the dark pen marks on pallid paper. Nijiro, who'd gone back to sketching in the moment he'd turned his back on him to get up, wrenched that paper back as soon as he saw how close Yuu was. Pressing the notebook against his chest, he looked up at his friend, his dark eyes locking with Yuu's maroon ones.

"It's not finished yet," he told the other man, his gaze coy and uncooperative. Yuu made a face, sticking his hand out stubbornly.

"Come on rainbow-man, let me look at it," he cajoled Nijiro, smiling persuasively.

"Good luck with _that_ ," a female voice came from behind them, and Yuu twisted around to see Marika had emerged from the kitchen, her arms laden with food. "Haru never shows something that's " _not finished yet_ "."

Yuu's eyes returned to Nijiro just in time to see the black-haired man stowing the notebook away in a drawer in his desk.

"Come on, let's eat," he enjoined Yuu, giving him a gentle nudge in the direction of the couch. Reluctantly, Yuu obeyed, vowing to get another look at the picture later.

The three sat down on the sofa together, Marika arranging the food on the already cluttered table, pushing papers and books to the side. She passed Nijiro a glass of water and the man took it, drinking gratefully. It seemed he, too, had become thirsty from the hectic ride.

Looking in the direction of Yuu, she realized something, "Oh, Yuu-kun. I forgot a glass for you."

"That's okay," Yuu told her, rising to his feet, "I'll go get it."

He headed to the kitchen, Nijiro shouting, "The cabinet above the sink!" in his wake. Entering the room, it was a stark contrast to the main room of his host's apartment. Here, no drawings were hung on the walls, and the room looked bland and lifeless from the lack of artwork. The kitchen was remarkably neat for that of a man living alone–the only visible dishes were sparkling clean, a coffee mug and blue porcelain bowl drying in the rack beside the sink. Following Nijiro's instructions, he opened the cabinet above the sink, selecting a mug, and filled it with water. Turning to leave, he re-entered the main room, glancing as he did at the reassuring presence of the sketches plastered over every available space on the wall.

He resumed his place on the sofa next to Nijiro, setting his mug down on the tabletop. He turned to make some inane comment about how irrationally clean the kitchen of such a evidently messy bachelor when he saw it.

A tiny silver needle, glinting in the ray of sun that pierced through Nijiro's window.

Nijiro, sinking the point into the flesh of his stomach.

He shot back so fast he tipped over the edge of the sofa, his mind a whirlwind. Had he just seen Nijiro–his friend, someone he thought he knew–using drugs? He could hardly believe someone he trusted would betray him like this. More than that, he could hardly believe Nijiro, who seemed so normal, could be so completely hiding something that would destroy him. But, after all, it had been Nijiro who, the very day they met, had pointed out how well addicts hid their behavior, saying _who suspects their artist of being a massive drug user_. Sure, he'd looked disgusted when he'd said it, but he seemed perfectly calm and comfortable now, only a miniscule flicker of pain crossing his face as he sunk the needle into his side.

"What the fuck!?" Yuu exclaimed, uncontrolled in his reaction, his eyes blown wide with shock.

Nijiro looked over at him, confused, simultaneously removing the needle from his side. The sight of it made Yuu sick: he had never been good with needles, and in this context, his distaste and unease were only made worse.

"What?" the man asked, his brow furrowing. Then he traced Yuu's burning gaze to the injector pen in his hand. "Oh, do you not like needles? Sorry, I should have asked."

The realization that Yuu meant something more than a dislike of needles slowly filtered into his eyes, helped along by Yuu's stuttered, "You… you're… a drug addict?"

Jolted by his statement, Nijiro looked horrified. "What?" He burst out, "No, this is _insulin_." He hurriedly capped the injector-pen, quickly and jerkily setting it down on the table, distancing himself from the object as a physical rejection of the insinuated drug use.

"What?" Yuu questioned, his brain performing an emergency rapid search as he tried to remember what insulin was. Finally, his brain-search engine returned a result. "Insulin? Like for diabetes?"

Nijiro rolled his endlessly deep eyes languorously, sarcastically replying, "Yes, Type 1 diabetic, pleased to meet you." He bowed mockingly. Marika, looking over his shoulder, gave Yuu a surprised and vaguely disapproving glance, supporting Nijiro's statement, providing familial proof the black-haired man wasn't lying.

"Wow, okay," Yuu responded, breathless from his sudden shock. "I'm sorry I reacted like that, assuming without giving you a chance to explain. It's just… I didn't know."

Nijiro cocked his head, "On that note, how did you never notice before? We must have eaten together twenty times by now, and I'd think you'd have at least noticed me testing myself." The gears in his brain turned as he thought back over all the meals the two had shared. "Well, I wouldn't have tested myself in front of Megumi, since she doesn't like blood, so that rules out every time we ate and she was there. And I generally go to the toilet to test myself when we're out in public to be polite. Even if everyone knows I generally do it under the table just to be discreet." He narrowed his eyes, continuing, "I try to be pretty unobtrusive about injecting myself if I do do it in front of other people, since most people aren't fond of needles." He paused, turning to fully face Yuu, who had settled himself from his disorganized state into a seated position on the floor.

Yuu thought back to their first dinner, when he had noticed Nijiro rummaging around in his bag, then wincing. He'd thought at the time that the man was checking how much money he had and finding, unfortunately, little, but now his mind rearranged the event with the new knowledge. That wince would have been Nijiro pricking his finger to obtain a drop of blood for his diabetic test strip, the rummaging reaching into his bag to take out his glucose meter. His mind darted to when Nijiro had left Chiaki's study to "wash his hands". Now, he knew the man had been respecting Megumi's fear of blood by leaving the room to test himself. Even one more piece of the puzzle was starting to fall into place.

"Artificial sweetener," he breathed, the light bulb in his mind flashing bright as full comprehension blossomed there.

Nijiro smiled. "Now you're getting it," he told his friend good-humoredly.

"It's in the family," Marika explained. "Dad has it, Haru has it. At least we ladies got spared–we take after Mom."

"In more ways than one," Nijiro commented, turning back to his sister. Yuu got the feeling he was only the newest participant in a conversation that had been held many times, over and over as Nijiro revealed his illness to those that surrounded him.

"Everyone else already knows, don't they?" he said resignedly, retaking his place on the couch and swallowing another drink of water.

"Yep," Nijiro retorted, grinning. "Otherwise they'd probably accidentally send me into hyperglycemic shock." Yuu, remembering Hatori's specification of which coffee was Nijiro's, sighed slowly, finally understanding what he had found most confusing and unexpected.

"You know, you probably shouldn't joke about that," Marika was chiding her brother.

"Ah, what's another hospital visit?" Nijiro defiantly joked, and Yuu worried suddenly at his light-hearted tone, wondering how many times his friend had been rushed to the hospital after passing out because of his unstable blood sugar levels. It couldn't be often, he told himself, the dyed-haired man was careful despite his carefree–sometimes even reckless–appearance. He was probably just making a joke at his own expense.

He tapped his friend's knee, capturing his attention. "Look, rainbow-head," he said, teasing with the nickname to throw off the discomfort and embarrassment he felt at having to apologize, "I'm sorry about what I said. Really. I was wrong to jump to conclusions like that."

Nijiro shrugged it off. "What's the incidence of Type 1 diabetes versus intravenous drug addiction? You were more likely to be right–all you could do was go with your best guess."

On the way back to his house, though, Yuu stopped by the supermarket and bought a box of artificial sweeteners. Just to be considerate.


	9. Eggs à la Marika

A/N: Don't own SIH. Please enjoy chapter nine!

Chapter Nine: Eggs à la Marika

The next day the two mangaka assistants had a free day–it was the day of the sports festival at Nakajima's children's school, so he gave all of his assistants the day off. Yuu took the opportunity to sleep late, lying lazily on his futon, simultaneously awake and asleep. Eventually, he thought idly that he ought to get up or risk spending the whole day wrapped snugly in his futon, so he did so, folding the bedclothes away to reduce the temptation to return straight back to bed. As he, yawning, drank a morning cup of coffee, his phone buzzed–a text from Nijiro.

 _Hey, want to have brunch with Mari and I_ , it read. _Since we have the day off and such_.

Yuu had nothing better to do anyway, so he shot his friend back a text replying _Sure_.

Nijiro returned notice he'd come to pick him up, so Yuu went back into his room to get dressed. Soon enough, the roar he recognized from the previous day as the call of Nijiro's motorcycle engine echoed outside, and he made his way to the black-helmeted, black leather jacket-wearing man waiting on the curb.

Flicking up the visor, Nijiro casually said, "Hey," his face displaying the canny grin Yuu had seen him wear many times before.

"Good morning, artificial sweetener," Yuu replied teasingly.

Nijiro's smile only grew wider. "Is that supposed to be a term of endearment?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Well, I can't call you sugar," Yuu joked, smirking, "you'd pass out from hyperglycemic shock."

The black-eyed man snorted.

"Hop on, _sugar_ ," he rejoined, flicking his visor back down over his face. Yuu obeyed, lacing his arms around Nijiro's thin frame just as he had the day before, prepared for the man's rapid driving. Today, however, Nijiro drove slower, although Yuu could still feel the wind whipping his hair into a tangled mess. Good thing messy was its natural state.

Swiftly, they drove again past the park beside Nijiro's apartment complex, arriving where they had the previous day. When they reached the door to his apartment, Marika was waiting to let them in. This morning she was wearing a light sundress, sea blue with sunbleached seahorses, with a loose long-sleeved off-white sweater over top.

"Hey Yuu," she said when she saw her brother's guest. Then she chuckled. "Hah, it's like hey you, but it's hey Yuu."

Nijiro and Yuu simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"Stick to law, nee-san," Nijiro told her, "you don't have a future in comedy."

Yuu's ears pricked up unconsciously. "You're a lawyer, Nijiro-san?"

"Yeah," Nijiro and Marika chorused inadvertently. Nijiro ducked into the kitchen, disappearing momentarily from view.

"Impressive."

"Thank you," Marika replied.

"Yep, the women have all the brains my family," Nijiro said, returning clad in a plain black waiter's apron. "We men are only good with our hands. Speaking of which, what do you want to eat for brunch? I'm cooking."

"Eggs à la Marika," Mariki replied lazily, settling herself on the sofa.

"Yuu?"

Yuu furrowed his brow, pensive. "What's eggs à la Marika?"

"Eggs scrambled in the pan with onion, double cheese, and chopped whatever other vegetables can be found in the fridge," Nijiro informed him.

"I'll have that, without the double cheese," Yuu decided, adding, "I'm lactose-intolerant."

"One eggs à la Marika and one eggs à la Marika sans cheese, coming right up," came the reply as Nijiro vanished into the kitchen. Yuu followed him, settling himself in the doorway where he could see both siblings.

Chopping the onion, Nijiro carried on with his introduction of his family. "It's a real gender role-reversal with us," he told Yuu, his knife slicing rapidly up and down in quick rhythm. "Mom's a business manager, my eldest sister Risa's a stockbroker, Mari here is a lawyer, and my third older sister, Tsumari, is a doctor."

"Wow, real powerhouse family you've got there," Yuu commented, impressed.  
"And then there's the men of the family," Marika continued her brother's explanation, "a motorcycle mechanic and a sketchbook filler."

"Decidedly less extraordinary," Nijiro admitted, smiling.

"Hey, we can't all be lawyer-doctor types," the man leaning in the doorway remarked.

"What about your family, Yuu?" Marika asked him.

Yuu paused as he thought about his family; it had been a while since he'd seen them. "I have an older sister," he finally said, "and then there are my parents, obviously. It's nothing so interesting as your family–my dad's a salaryman and my mom doesn't work. Atsuko (my older sister) used to be a salaryman too (or salarywoman, I guess), but she quit after she had Hiro."

"You have a nephew?" Nijiro asked, sounding both excited and jealous as he cracked two eggs into the pan on the burner in front of him. "Cool. How old is he? Is he cute?"

"He's four. Cute? Yeah, I suppose so," Yuu replied, he hadn't thought about it much. He turned towards his dark-haired friend, his brow furrowing. "I'm surprised you don't have nephews and nieces yourself, what with three older sisters."

In the other room, Marika made a face. "High-powered careers and having children don't really mix. Actually, of the three of us, only Risa is married."

"Tsu and Iku are practically married," Nijiro cut in from the kitchen. Mari stuck out her tongue at him, although the wall between them kept her brother from seeing it. Unknowing, he continued, "Once they do finally get married, Iku will be the first accomplished man in the family." Turning to Yuu, he explained, "He's a doctor, too."

"What about your eldest sister's husband?"

"Masao? He teaches at a cram school. Not exactly the big leagues," Nijiro told him. He dished his finished product out onto three plates, sprinkling cheese liberally atop one. Yuu went over to help him so he wouldn't have to juggle, and the two men carried the plates into the other room, sitting down on the sofa with Marika. After that, the room fell silent for a while as the three ate, each savoring their meal. Yuu thought to himself that his friend was a decent cook–about as good as he was. Neither of them overseasoned their food, unlike a _certain_ man he could name. He pushed the thought of Hatori out of his mind; no point in thinking about such unpleasant things in such pleasant company.

Marika finished first, scrapping the last flecks of egg into her mouth before rising to take her plate into the kitchen.

"I'll probably head back to Sapporo after this," she said over the sound of washing her plate. "I have court Monday, and I'm not quite finished preparing all my notes."

"You mean over-preparing your notes," her younger brother shot back good-humoredly.

"It never hurts to be over-prepared," she retorted. Yuu listened to their sibling banter, thinking about his relationship with his sister. The two of them didn't get along half as well as Nijiro and Marika did, but that didn't bother him. Some siblings were close, some weren't, it was just the way things were.

It wasn't long after that that Marika left, hugging Nijiro goodbye in the entryway and making him promise to come visit the family soon. Yuu thought about leaving when she did, but he really _didn't_ have anything else to do, having not expected the day off, and besides, Nijiro had invited him to hang around. So he sat back down on the sofa, Nijiro collapsing beside him.

"Hey, what do you want to do?" the dark-eyed man asked after they had sat their in silence a few minutes, aimlessly gazing at the drawings lining the wall. "Want to go out?"

Yuu had lain back against the backrest of the sofa, his head resting against the top. Thoughts were slowly filtering in and out of his brain, unremarked in their passage. "Eh, not really," he commented listlessly.

Silence stretched out between the two again, broken only when Nijiro suggested, "Hey, you want to find out if Chiaki's doing anything today?"

Having relaxed to the point where emotions only flitted through his mind like the fluttering wings of seagulls over the waves of a distant sea, Yuu would probably have responded the same way no matter what Nijiro had suggested. As it was, he apathetically muttered, "Sure," his voice utterly devoid of any care in the world.

"Okay," Nijiro replied, tapping a few times on his phone. A few moments later, it started ringing, and Yuu looked up briefly, mildly surprised by the noise, and saw he'd put it on speaker.

"Hello?" Chiaki's voice echoed through the room.

"Hey Chi-sensei," Nijiro drawled.

"Haru?"

"Yeah," came the confirmation, "Yuu's here too–say hi Yuu."

"Hey," Yuu offered, pushing his back against the sofa as he stretched, cat-like.

"Hi Yuu," Chiaki added. "How's everything? How's Nakajima doing?"

"He's good," the maroon-eyed man replied. "Gave us the day off today because it's sports day at his kids' school."

Nijiro reclaimed control of the conversation, interrupting with the question, "Anyway, what are _you_ doing today, sensei?"

"Nothing really," Chiaki replied, his voice suddenly sounding as drowsy as Yuu and Nijiro's. "Trying to work, but it's really more procrastinating. Tori would throw a fit."

"He's laced too tight," Nijiro responded, and Yuu could hear the light annoyance in the man's voice he knew Chiaki would miss. "So, essentially you're not doing anything, right? Want to come over and chill?"

There was a short pause as Chiaki went through the motions of thinking it over. "Eh, why not? I've never been to your place anyway. Where do you live, anyway?"

Nijiro suddenly sat straight up, an idea had hit him. Yuu knew what he'd say almost before he said it, the thought had come simultaneously to him.

"Want me to come pick you? I'll give you a ride on my bike."

It made sense–the motorcycle was flirtation made solid. It had charmed Yuu, it was only logical that Nijiro would use the same tactic on Chiaki, who he'd admitted to having a crush on. Hell, the man had probably made the judgement based on Yuu's positive reaction to the bike, calculating it would work on the object of his interest just as it had worked on his friend. Sure enough, Chiaki's voice brightened up noticeably as he accepted the ride, he was as excited as Yuu had been. Nijiro promised to be by soon and ended the call.

"Mind watching the place a moment while I go get him?" he asked Yuu as he stood, pocketing the phone, and Yuu languidly nodded. "There's beer in the fridge if you want any."

With that, he was gone, and Yuu lay there, staring at the ceiling and imagining with irritation Chiaki's arms tightening around Nijiro's waist as the dark-eyed man sliced through the streets. Strangely, he found he not only disliked the idea of Chiaki essentially hugging Nijiro, but the thought of Nijiro being hugged by Chiaki upset him too. Odd, but maybe it was only that he sensed Chiaki would inadvertently get Nijiro's hopes just as he always got Yuu's hopes up. He didn't like the disappointment that ultimately created, not wishing it on someone he thought of as a friend. Or maybe there was another reason. But he was too tired to think about anything more at that moment. Sighing, he succumbed at last to the nap he had been on the edge of, collapsing fully into the sofa.


	10. A Lazy Afternoon

A/N: Don't own SIH. Thank you for reading and please enjoy chapter ten!

Chapter Ten: A Lazy Afternoon

When Chiaki and Nijiro came in through the entryway door, both were flushed, and Yuu had to forcibly remind himself it was as a result of the wind speeds encountered on a motorcycle and not anything inappropriate. At least, wind to the face was Chiaki's excuse. Nijiro had a helmet and would have been protected by the air whipping at his face: the color in his face was, Yuu was sure, induced by the fact that just a few moments before Chiaki had been gripping onto him for dear life. No doubt he had deliberately sped through town, flying through Tokyo's streets with all the velocity of a diving peregrine falcon, darting around the cars as he went. He had practiced the technique on Yuu himself, after all, so the man knew exactly what kind of heart-pounding thrill Nijiro would have sought to create. And the tightening of the passenger's arms around the driver's waist was one perfectly predictable side effect. The only thing keeping him from drowning in the thick heat of jealousy was the thought that he would have done exactly the same thing had he been in Nijiro's shoes. He couldn't fault the dark-eyed man for trying to use the bike to woo Chiaki. And from the bright look in his blue eyes, Chiaki had been charmed.

"That was incredible," he was saying to Nijiro, his voice beautiful even as it was slightly breathless. Yuu knew the feeling–the man had to be craving something to wet his parched throat. Here was his opening. He tipped forward from his position on the sofa to sit up; because of his nap, he had been almost prone.

"Can I get you something to drink, Chiaki?" he asked, remembering Nijiro had mentioned beer in the fridge.

The lovely blue eyes shifted focus from Nijiro to Yuu and something inside the maroon-eyed man pumped its fist in triumph. _Ha! He's looking at me now_ , he thought subconsciously.

"Oh, Yuu," Chiaki replied, smiling lightly as he noticed him sitting there, "yes, thank you."

Yuu rose to his feet and strode over to take three beers from the fridge. When he returned to the main room, he saw Chiaki gazing with wonder at the many sketches that covered the walls. That feeling, too, he remembered–amazement at the sheer number of intricately detailed illustrations Nijiro had displayed. Chiaki's eyes struggled to take in them all, his eyes darting from sketch to sketch as he noted the skilled lines etched into each picture. Nijiro, by contrast, was staring openly at Chiaki. He could afford to–the mangaka was thoroughly distracted by the profusion of images before him.

When Yuu came through the door Nijiro turned, likely hearing the man's entrance. One of his characteristic wily grins decorated his face and he approached Yuu, seeing the drinks in his friend's grasp.

"Thanks for getting one for me, too," he told Yuu, taking one of the beers and snapping open the top, taking a long drink to quench his thirst. Yuu's eyes were unconsciously drawn by the curve of Nijiro's throat; he watched the man's Adam's apple jumping as he swallowed. Nijiro really did have good bone structure, he thought, his memory of seeing the man shirtless the previous week brought, unsummoned, to mind.

Nijiro's eyes flicked over to see Yuu watching him, the expression on his face an unspoken question. Yuu, caught in the act, glanced rapidly away, heat rushing into his cheeks. It surprised him–he wasn't one to be embarrassed easily, but then again, he had just been found guilty of admiring the way Nijiro drank. And he knew the dyed-haired man well enough to know he could have marked by the look in Yuu's eyes what he was thinking pretty accurately without the accompanying explanatory blush.

Collecting himself, Yuu called out to Chiaki, "Here's your drink, Chiaki."

The brown-haired man turned away from the picture he was inspecting–one of the Odori Park series–and came over to Yuu, taking the beer from his hand. Independently but simultaneously, the three of them slouched over to, and sank down into, their seats. Yuu and Chiaki sat at opposite sides of the sofa, twisting around so they could see Nijiro sitting behind them in the chair at his desk, both drawing up their legs in front of them.

Yuu snapped open his beer and took a long drink of the cool, refreshing liquid. Across the way he could see Nijiro taking his notebook out from a drawer; it seemed he was going to work on the drawing he'd started the day before after Yuu's first ride on his motorcycle. Perhaps it was motorcycle-related, he randomly thought.

Glancing from Nijiro to Chiaki, a light bulb illuminated itself inside his head.

"Hey, Nijiro, can I use one of your sketchbooks?" he asked. The man looked up from his drawing, surprised, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. It seemed they had a habit of drifting down when he was peering at his artwork.

"Yeah, sure," the dark-eyed man replied, wrenching himself away from his work-in-progress barely long enough to take another notepad from his desk and offer it to Yuu. The brown-haired man stood up and traipsed over to him, seeking at the same time to get a glimpse of the image he was bringing, line by line, into being. It was futile, though–Nijiro had angled the paper so it leant gently against his chest, and Yuu couldn't attempt a glimpse closer without making it obvious what he was trying to do. He took the notebook, resigning himself to wait until the drawing was done to see it, and returned to his seat on the sofa. At the other end, Chiaki was sipping delicately at his beer.

Deliberately keeping his wording vague, Yuu asked, "Hey, can I draw you?"

The hidden smirk on his face only grew when the beautiful man took the bait, complaining, "Again?" It was only natural Chiaki would think the request was for him, considering how many times Yuu had asked to draw him before. This time, however, it was not–Yuu was hoping to make the blue-eyed man even the slightest bit jealous by sketching Nijiro instead.

So he kept careful watch on the man's pretty face when he said, "Not you." Turning his head, still watching Chiaki out of the corner of his eye, he continued, "Rainbow princess?"

Once again the glasses-clad man was forced to pull himself out of his sketching trance to respond to his maroon-eyed friend. His deep black eyes showed no sign of annoyance at the interruption, though, as they reached out to encompass Yuu in their gravity. He only looked confused, not knowing of Yuu's secret scheme.

"Sure, I guess," he said, "as long as you don't mind drawing me while I'm drawing this." He gestured at the paper before him.

"I don't mind," Yuu told him, setting his notebook on the back of the sofa and uncapping the pen he'd taken off the cluttered coffee table. The drawing would serve a double purpose: simultaneously serving to satisfy the strangely insistent desire he had developed to draw those magnetic eyes.

"By the way, do you mind if I play some music?" Nijiro added as an afterthought. Both his guests confirmed they did not, in fact, mind, and soon the strumming guitars and crashing drums typical of rock sounded in the background.

Other than those thrumming strains, the apartment was quiet. Chiaki sat slowly savoring his beer, sometimes watching Nijiro as he drew his concealed picture, sometimes watching Yuu as he drew Nijiro. After a few minutes, he picked up one of the manga from the table, aimlessly flipping through it. Unsurprisingly, it was one of Nakajima's–he was another manga artist the two assistants shared. As he sat, refreshing himself on the familiar storyline, a cat nosed its way into his lap, and he aimlessly began stroking its ginger fur. He skimmed through the manga, more pretending to read than actually taking in the story. Instead, he was using it as a cover to watch Nijiro and Yuu as they drew each other. Yuu was more obvious about it, but then he had nakedly asked the black-haired man if he could draw him, so there was no reason to hide his glances. He spent half of his time looking at Nijiro with a vaguely puzzled expression on his face, quickly looking back at the page before him whenever the glasses-clad man caught him watching him. Although Chiaki could tell, he thought Yuu was probably unaware that Nijiro was sketching him too. It was visible to the blue-eyed man, though, in the subtle glances Nijiro kept sending the maroon-eyed man's way. Two black eyes would look up, catching and dispelling the eyes watching them, and when Yuu was safely burning holes in the paper in front of him by the force of his stare, Nijiro would lean forward ever so slightly, peering at Yuu as if the man was some sort of intricately and minutely carved alabaster sculpture.

The cat in his lap began bathing itself, accidentally licking Chiaki's hand in the process, and the rough texture of his tongue reinvigorated his mind out of its daze. Suddenly, he recognized what it was that he had been subconsciously wondering about, finding it strange. Yuu, embarrassed to be caught staring at Nijiro when he was drawing the man. Having been his friend since middle school, Yuu must have drawn Chiaki a thousand times, but he'd never shown a shred of shyness about gazing openly at the brown-haired mangaka. In fact, he'd always been brazen about it, even cajoling Chiaki to let him drawn the man shirtless on occasion. He wasn't even apologetic about being caught trying to sketch Chiaki without the man's permission. But here he was, bashful to be caught drawing someone he'd gotten permission to draw, someone who was completely dressed, and who, incidentally, was drawing him right back. Sure, Yuu didn't know Nijiro was sketching him, but it shouldn't have mattered. He should have been unhindered in his staring, eyes unashamedly lancing all the way to his model's soul.

Moments later, Nijiro looked up again, seeking to refresh his mental image of the man sitting before him. As Chiaki watched, black eyes swallowed up maroon ones. This time, Yuu was ensnared, unable to look away. Ever so faintly, color rose up in his throat and his ears, almost hidden behind his shaggy brown hair, pinkened. He was _blushing_.

Chiaki's eyes widened in shock, but almost as quickly as the instant had began it was over, Yuu ripping his gaze away, his eyes wildly seeking some other sight to light upon. He glimpsed his can of beer, nearly finished, and seized it, draining the remaining liquid in one swift quaff. Chiaki whipped his gaze around to Nijiro, searching for the man's reaction, but the artist had buried his head behind his drawing, sketching furiously. No doubt he was trying to capture the expression on Yuu's face only a moment before, and had, as a result, missed the dash for refreshment.

"More beer, Yuu?" he asked teasingly.

"Hmm?" Yuu asked, looking towards him, surprised. "Sure, thanks." He was unaware Chiaki had been watching him, and even if he had known, he probably would have ignored it, thinking the man's unawareness of his own romantic situation made him blind to that of others. Chiaki had to admit he had been remarkably dense on that point, but he argued it was difficult to truly see something centered on oneself. The affairs of others, now, that was a different story. After all, he was still a shojo manga artist. He could read between the lines.

As he returned from the kitchen with new beverages, his phone rang, and, seeing the name on caller ID, he eagerly answered it.

"Tori!" He greeted his boyfriend cheerfully. He felt the eyes of the room's other occupants remove from their drawings, latching onto him instead.

"Where _are_ you?" Hatori's gruff voice inquired, sounding mildly annoyed. Across the room, Nijiro tilted his drawing against his abdomen, motioning for the mangaka to put the call on speaker. Obediently, he did, and Nijiro answered Hatori's question, having predicted the reason for the call.

"Hello, Hatori-chan!" he exclaimed, grinning wickedly. "Your precious Chiaki has been captured by us!"

"What? Nijiro?" the editor replied, irritated.

"Yuu's here too," the dark-eyed man sang out.

"Don't group me in with you," Yuu grumbled, wanting to imply Chiaki was there as a result of Nijiro, not him. Hatori was already prone to think any time the two spent together was as a result of Yuu kidnapping the naive mangaka, he didn't want to encourage the idea.

"Chiaki, do you know what time it is?" Hatori asked.

Startled, the blue-eyed man looked towards the windows, noting with shock that it was already dark outside. The whole afternoon had passed while he was spacing out, it seemed.

"Sorry, Tori," he apologized.

The editor sighed deeply. "It's fine. I'll come pick you up."

Nijiro helpfully provided his address, and Hatori hung up. Looking out the window just as Chiaki had done, Yuu suggested it was time he get going as well, and Chiaki offered Hatori's chauffeuring services to take him home. The maroon-haired man accepted, and Nijiro saw them off, wishing them a good night. And it might have been just Chiaki's imagination, but he could swear he saw Nijiro winking at Yuu, too.

A/N: Thank you anonymous guest who reviewed last chapter. About what you said, it's quite relevant to know these are the unfolding of events from Yuu's perspective, I'll just say things may seem a little different from Nijiro's perspective. More on that later...


	11. Subtle Glances

A/N: Don't own SIH. Please enjoy chapter eleven (sorry it's up a little late, I completely forgot to publish it earlier). Thank you again to my guest reviewer.

Chapter Eleven: Subtle Glances

The coming of the next week meant back to work with Chiaki again. Yuu woke up late that Monday, able to take his time rising because Chiaki's start times were later than Nakajima's. It was a good thing, too–although he'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour the previous night, he still had an unusually large amount of sleep-fuzz in his eyes and had to wash his face twice with the coldest water the sink could offer to rouse himself. He dressed, sucking back a customary cup of coffee, and gathered his things, ready to head to the train station.

 _I'll get something for breakfast at the convenience store next to the station_ , he thought.

Just as he was about to leave, though, his phone rang, and he picked up, seeing it was Nijiro calling.

"Good morning, rainbow princess," he greeted his friend good-humoredly.

"Morning," Nijiro replied, unfazed by the nickname. "Do you want a ride to work? I'm just about to leave the apartment, thought I might swing by after I get something to eat."

Yuu's brain quickly calculated how he might get some breakfast not bought from the convenience store, and he queried, "Yeah. Do you think you could stop by before you get something to eat, though? I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Oh, sure," Nijiro said. "I'm hanging up now, I'll be by soon."

Putting his phone away in his pocket, Yuu left his entryway, passed through his front gate and stopping to lean against it. The weather was pleasant that day: the sun was shining and a few white puffs of cloud were drifting lazily through the sky. A light breeze blew out of the east, ruffling his messy brown hair. The temperature, too, was mild–it was the perfect day to spend outside, instead of cooped up drawing manga. Hopefully at least Chiaki would have his windows open to keep the air from becoming stuffy.

There was a rumbling growl and Nijiro rode into view, stopping just before where Yuu stood. Turning the key, he killed the ignition, flipping up his visor as he did so. This morning he was dressed head-to-toe in black, with the exception of the electric blue scarf wrapped around his throat. He had twisted it so it loose ends ran down his back, leaving a brightly colored trail in their wake. They had been flying out behind him as he drove, but now they settled against his back. This morning, too, Nijiro wore the fingerless gloves typical of motorcycle riders; he must have dug them out of his things with the return of his bike.

Nijiro smiled, crooking a finger at Yuu.

"Hey," he hailed the maroon-eyed man, "Hop on."

Yuu obeyed, slinging his leg over the motorcycle to sit down behind Nijiro. He laced his arms around the black-eyed man's waist, and once Nijiro was satisfied he was holding on tightly enough, he flicked his visor down, turned the key in the ignition, and peeled away from the curb.

"Where are we going?" Yuu asked, bending closer to Nijiro to in an effort to make himself heard through the man's helmet and above the roar of the bike.

The muffled reply, when it came, sounded something like, "You'll see," so Yuu resigned himself to waiting patiently for their arrival. When they were stopped by traffic, though, Nijiro flipped up his visor and turned his head back, explaining, "Coffee shop."

Yuu wanted to inquire further, but the light ahead of them suddenly turned green, and Nijiro was forced to redirect his attention to the road before him.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a café, Nijiro sliding into a small space between two cars to park. The two unloaded themselves from the bike, Nijiro hanging his helmet on one handlebar, and stepped up onto the curb.

The sign atop the café read Café Français, it was small, distinguished by the green and white striped awning hanging down over the windows. Looking in through them, Yuu could see it was a pastry shop as well as a coffee shop. The croissants, muffins, and scones looked mouthwatering, and although he hadn't been that hungry before arriving, he resolved to sample several of the delicacies.

"Sugar-free pastries are kind of a rarity," Nijiro explained just as Yuu was starting to wonder how a diabetic could eat anything from a place like this. "The owner makes both sugar-free and sugary, and I've been told they taste practically identical."

The two entered the shop, the tiny bell hanging on the door dinging their arrival. There were a few other morning sugar-seekers in the shop, sitting at the tables and inspecting the fare behind the glass partition. The woman behind the counter was packaging up a dozen muffins for a customer to take to work, but when she saw Nijiro she tossed him a wave, recognizing him from previous breakfast expeditions. They ordered: coffee (one with artificial sweetener), a croissant, and two scones (one sugar-free), and Nijiro promised to come again soon, thanking the bakery worker by name. Quickly finishing their coffees and Yuu his croissant, they returned to the bike, Yuu stuffing their remaining pastries into Nijiro's bag, which he was now carrying.

They made their way to Chiaki's apartment, arriving just as their female co-workers did. Nijiro zoomed the bike up next to them as they strode down the sidewalk, angling to impress. As he had expected, they looked up in surprise and admiration.

"Morning, Ao, Yumiko, Megu," Nijiro greeted the three, flipping up his visor and killing the engine. Yuu released one arm from its tight grip clutching Nijiro's waist and waved to them, seconding the hello.

"Morning," Aoki returned, her tone nonchalant despite the appraising look in her eye as she looked the bike up and down. Yumiko and Megumi's reactions were less understated. Megumi's eyes were as wide as saucers, she had taken a rapid step back from the curb when she heard the growl of the motorcycle. It seemed she was one of those who is more frightened by a motorcycle than impressed by it, but that fit in with her overall timidity, Yuu reflected.

Yumiko, who had looked bored until she had seen the bike, was now grinning.

"Hey boys," she commented. "Nice ride."

Hey eyes scoped the bike, glossing over it sleek black exterior and coming to rest gazing at Nijiro's bag, resting against the small of Yuu's back. From there, they flicked to Yuu's arm, still laced familiarly around Nijiro's waist. She raised her left eyebrow slightly, her grin transforming to a smirk. Yuu caught the piercing look in her eyes, his brow quirking in puzzlement, and followed them to where they burned a hole in his arm. Noting her expression, he removed his arm gently, trying his best to keep the gesture casual and not seem embarrassed to have been caught holding onto his black-haired chauffeur after the bike had stopped.

"Thanks," Nijiro replied, wrenching off his helmet and shaking his hair to get rid of his helmet hair and missing the exchange between Yumiko and Yuu as a result. "My older sister brought it down this weekend–she'd been borrowing it."

"Lucky of Yuu to be able to get a ride," Yumiko remarked, still smirking.

Nijiro, completely unaware of her implication, replied, "Oh, if you want a ride sometime just let me know. Yuu's ridden three times already, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting someone else ride with me."

Yumiko's eyebrow progressed further up her forehead and her smirk stretched wider.

"I don't know," she said, "Yuu certainly seems to enjoy riding that thing, I wouldn't want to get between you two."

This time, Nijiro understood the innuendo, rolling his eyes and scoffing at Yumiko, his smile flattening. Yuu, meanwhile, turned away and made a pretense of checking the scones in the bag, feeling his ears smouldering.

"Come on, let's get going," the black-eyed man said, dismounting from the bike and reaching out to take his bag from Yuu. "We have actual work to do today."

Yumiko chuckled, but gave up teasing them, and the five assistants made their way into Chiaki's apartment building, the two men eating their scones as they walked.

The five sat down in a new configuration today; Nijiro and Yuu on one side of the table opposite Megumi and Aoki, Yumiko sitting at the head of the table. They had arranged themselves strategically–Yuu and Nijiro had taken positions on the far side of the table, facing Chiaki. Yumiko, meanwhile, had sat where she could watch all of them, although she was really only interested in seeing what the men would do.

As they drew, Yuu's eyes were drawn time and again to Chiaki. It was habit at this point, something he did without really noticing he was doing it. The man's brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin, delicate bone structure–all of them were inspirations for him, helping him draw just the right amount of emotional intensity in the sketches he did for the mangaka's work. He would glance up at Chiaki, feel his heart well with unrequited love, then push the feeling into his pen as it danced across the page, making the characters as beautiful in the eyes of each other as Chiaki was in his eyes. A prompt to keep the right emotion in mind.

This time, though, Chiaki wasn't the only one graced by his glances. Every so often, he'd look up, meaning to be staring once again at the man he'd loved since middle school, and find he was looking beside him instead of across the room. The same elegant bone structure, the same snow white skin, but with raven hair, slashed across the temple by streak of red and pale bleached hair, and abyss-deep midnight eyes. Nijiro. It wasn't unrequited love he felt when his eyes lit on Nijiro–he hadn't been in love with his new colleague since middle school, after all–but he wasn't sure what it was. There were some similarities: the admiration of their graceful features, but there was something different, something impossible to identify. A subtle tightness in his chest that made him feel like two cups of coffee that morning had been too much, even though he knew he would have been draped in a heavy layer of fatigue without them. It felt something like a mental itch he had no idea how to scratch. And there was something else. From time to time, Nijiro's eyes would flick up to look at Chiaki, no doubt for reasons similar to Yuu's own. He had admitted a desire to pursue the lovely man had Hatori not stood immovably in the way of any and all comers, so it was likely he was watching his crush just as Yuu was. Chiaki was well worth looking at, after all: the beautiful mangaka was a feast for the eyes. But for some reason, Nijiro's glances bothered Yuu. He couldn't say why, couldn't say anything to stop Nijiro from doing it without a valid reason as to why he shouldn't be. If he had been asked, he probably would have described it as distracting, but it would have been pointed out that he was doing the exact same thing and couldn't that be construed as distracting too. Besides, he was the one choosing to look at Nijiro, so he could easily end his distraction by simply looking away. Not that he had any desire to take that road, either. He found himself mentally chiding Nijiro, telling him he should focus on the task before him instead of looking elsewhere. He was the one who had said they had work today earlier, so he was the last person who should be slacking off. Never mind that Yuu was, by that argument, doubly slacking off in watching both Chiaki and Nijiro.

With that thought, his head snapped back down to the drawing in front of him. His pen had frozen in midair above the page, leaving the character he was supposed to be giving hair sadly bald. He narrowed his eyes, refocusing, and leaned a little closer to the page as he started giving the character locks to be proud of.

As he did, he missed the intense gaze coming from the end of the table. Yumiko had rapidly finished her page but was pretending she had a few things left to draw, more interested in the story unfolding in real life that on the page before her. She was watching the gazes exchanged between the three men, noting what none of those looking saw. Chiaki, as usual, was completely unaware of what was happening, focusing on getting out the next pages before his assistants could finish with the ones he had just sketched the last preliminary lines on. Nijiro was drawing diligently, looking up at Chiaki now and then to see if the mangaka had new pages for them yet. Furthest from her sat Yuu, but it was the looks he was shooting at the other two that were of the most interest. She had noticed him staring at Chiaki before–it was common knowledge to her and Aoki (she wasn't sure about Megumi, who had always been oblivious) that the maroon-eyed assistant had a long-standing crush on his author. Today, though, he was darting glances at Nijiro, too, these more subtle and yet more obvious than those he directed at Chiaki. By the way his brow furrowed as he looked at the black-haired man, it was clear he was interpreting Nijiro's glances as having the same meaning as his own, his angle making it impossible to see the lack of romantic intent in Nijiro's eyes as the black-eyed man looked up at Chiaki. It was evident that the glimpses irritated him, although he didn't seem to fully understand why. _Interesting_ , she thought. Yuu had always been the kind of person who was aware of his own feelings, but here, it seemed, was an exception to the rule. She resolved to keep watching, keen to see how things turned out.


	12. Let's Go Away!

A/N: Don't own SIH. Please enjoy chapter thirteen. Thanks again to my kind guest reviewer.

Chapter Twelve: Let's Go Away!

When Yuu and Nijiro arrived at Chiaki's later that week, they could hear the mangaka and his editor arguing on the other side of the study door. They stopped, simultaneously hesitant to put themselves in the middle of a couple's dispute and secretly wanting to eavesdrop on the two.

"You promised me you wouldn't," the editor was authoritatively complaining.

"Why can't I?" Chiaki insisted in indignant response. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's not you I don't trust," Hatori growled. Yuu could picture his face–the tall editor's usual seemingly permanently etched scowl. "It's him."

"Who?" Nijiro asked, bursting unannounced through the door. Apparently he had decided to abandon the pretense that he hadn't been listening in and wanted to actively participate in the discussion. Yuu followed him more cautiously, and when he saw the faces of those standing on the other side of the door he knew he had been right to. The looks on both men's faces confirmed his suspicion–Hatori's his typical jealous exasperation and Chiaki's half-resentful half-embarrassed. They had been talking about him.

The two looked up at Nijiro's sudden entry, further retorts dying on their lips as soon as they saw Yuu standing behind him. If he hadn't known before that he had been the topic of their conversation, this would have been all the verification he needed. They wouldn't have ceased their complaining had it been anyone else; on the contrary, they would have encouraged him to join in. The three had been close friends since middle school; Hatori and Yuu's love rivalry was the only thing that had ever driven them to fight.

Nijiro, though, didn't seem to notice the simmering tension in the room, or if he did, he pressed on anyway. "Hey Chi-sensei, Tori-chan, what were you two talking about?" He asked light-heartedly, grinning.

Instead of replying, Chiaki studied them, narrowing his eyes. Turning to Hatori, he cryptically asked, "What if it wasn't just us two? What about then?"

Hatori scowled as he mulled the request over, his eyes burning with displeasure, but he relented at last. "Fine."

"Yay!" Chiaki exclaimed, bubbling over with joy. He smiled beatifically at Hatori, putting all of his love for his boyfriend into one facial expression. The grin only made Hatori scowl more darkly, but despite his irritated look his eyes showed his happiness at seeing Chiaki's glee.

"Um…" Nijiro cut in, one eyebrow quirked in confusion. He repeated himself, the same words in a more bemused tone. "What were you two talking about?"

Chiaki turned on him, beaming brightly. "Hey, Haru, are you doing anything this weekend? Want to go away with Yuu and I?"

"What?" Yuu asked. Chiaki hadn't mentioned wanting the two of them to go on a trip that weekend. It was true he would have automatically agreed had Chiaki offered, but still…

The blue-eyed man's face scrunched up thoughtfully. "Oh, right," he remembered, "I haven't actually asked you yet. Hey, Yuu, do you want to go away with Nijiro and I this weekend?"

For a moment the two men looked around: at each other, at Hatori's still glowering face, at Chiaki's shining one. In unison they made their decision, shrugging their shoulders and deciding to go along with the author's sudden invitation.

"Ah, sure," Yuu replied, "I wasn't planning on doing anything this weekend anyway."

Nijiro took a slightly different approach. Answering Chiaki's sparkling smile with a cunning one of his own, he responded, "Of course I'll come! How could I resist a weekend getaway with two such lovely gentlemen?"

Hatori fought to keep from rolling his eyes, and Yuu could see him regretting his decision to let his boyfriend do as he wished.

"I thought we'd leave on Friday morning instead of working," Chiaki explained, "Tori said he would come along when he can get away." He shot a loving glance at his boyfriend, and Yuu and Nijiro overtly ignored him. "He had been saying he was going to be busy, but I wanted to go. Now since you two have agreed to go, I can!"

Yuu chuckled internally as he watched Hatori biting back an annoyed retort. This weekend was going to be a lot more fun than he'd expected.

A few days later, the three of them gathered at the train station, each holding their packed weekend bag as they waited on the platform for the train to Kamakura. It was earlier than Chiaki usually had them start work and as a result all three were yawning. They had agreed to get a prompt start, not wanting to waste any of the day sitting on the train, and besides, if they left in the morning they were free to nap as they travelled.

There was a thrum and a woosh as the train pulled into the station, disgorging a load of Kamakurans arriving in the city for work. Yuu, Nijiro, and Chiaki boarded the train as soon as the doors were clear, concerned the cars would fill up fast. Luckily, since they had arrived early, there were plenty of empty seats and they were able to get a row of three to themselves. Nijiro sidled in first, throwing himself down into the middle seat. Yuu kicked his shin and grumbled at him to move over, but the black-haired man had already fallen asleep. _Whatever_ , he thought, morning irritation getting the best of him as he climbed over the man's sleeping form and settled himself in the window seat. Sitting down in the outside seat, Chiaki pulled a manga volume from his bag and buried his face in it.

Seeing conversation wasn't likely to happen–not that he truly considered himself awake enough for it–Yuu lodged himself soundly into his seat and watched the world move outside. The train started up and left the station; his eyes took in the tall buildings of the familiar city rising high outside the train windows. Next to him, Nijiro's head fell unto his shoulder, an approximation of his unconscious snuggling adapted for sleeping sitting up. Yuu rested his head gently atop Nijiro's black locks, his eyes drifting slowly shut.

When Chiaki nudged the two and woke them up the train had already come to a stop at the station in Kamakura. Blinking at the sunlight newly entering their eyes, Nijiro and Yuu got to their feet and followed him into the station. There they switched to a local train, riding for a few stops before disembarking near a seaside inn. Chiaki led them through the streets to the inn, suggesting they check in before dispersing into the town.

"Where should we go first?" Nijiro asked his two travelling companions, refreshed from his train nap and ready to explore.

"How about the seaside park?" Chiaki offered. Nijiro nodded, saying he'd like to stretch his legs after sitting down for so long. Decided, the three of them made their way to the park.


	13. Downpour

A/N: Don't own SIH. Thanks as always to my guest reviewer, I'm glad you enjoy the story. Thanks to all for continuing to read and I hope you like chapter thirteen.

Chapter Thirteen: Downpour

"Those clouds look ominous," Chiaki commented for the fifth time that afternoon.

"Stop saying that, you'll jinx us," Nijiro fired back, irked.

It was later the same Friday and the three men were strolling down the avenues of Kamakura, half-heartedly making their way back towards their lodgings. They had been promenading around the town, accomplishing the dual purposes of getting their bearings and seeing a few of the must-see sights when Nijiro had mentioned to his friends that he hadn't been to the seaside town since he was a child and didn't remember much. Astonished, Chiaki had started pressing him to recollect what memories he _did_ have of his long ago visit, after which the eager mangaka had excitedly led him around a tour of the various spots of interest he and Yuu had found on their previous visits.

Around noon, they had stopped into a small restaurant Chiaki and Yuu had visited on one of their previous trips to eat a lunch of delicious steamed buns. Nijiro had declared them excellent, commending the hostess highly and Chiaki and Yuu similarly for recommending the place. Later, they had settled themselves on benches in the park for a sketching spree. Yuu and Nijiro sat side by side; Nijiro's eyes focused far-sightedly on the weeping willow hanging over the park's small pond, Yuu's near-sightedly on the cluster of birds who had approached the bench when they sat, expecting crumbs. Chiaki sat on the bench across from the two, eyes taking in their comfortable closeness. Opening his notepad to a fresh page, he decided to use their friendly familiarity as a model for a preparatory sketch for a manga plot that was gradually crystallizing in his mind.

As the afternoon passed, the sky began to darken and a sullen sea of cumulonimbus crept to cover the sun. Sensing the change in the lighting, the seated artists' eyes shifted from their notebooks to the sky.

"Those clouds look threatening," Chiaki spoke up first. While the other two glanced up at him briefly–and unintentionally simultaneously–they quickly dismissed his words, internally agreeing but hoping to have more time to finish their developing pictures. Gazing up at the heavens, the brown-haired man gave up on his sketch, closing his notebook and capping his pen. It had only been a rough idea anyway: he had wanted to capture the silent communion of the moment between his friends for his work. He stood up and made his way over to stand behind Yuu and Nijiro. Yuu's image was exposed for him to see; a drawing that included the tip of the man's sneaker as a reference against the birds gathered beside the bench. He had come too late to see Nijiro's work; however, the black-haired man's work was concealed as usual, honoring his _not until it's done_ regulation. A pair of endless black eyes observed his curiosity but their owner did not relent his restriction. Judging he had seen all he was likely to see, Chiaki retreated to his bench, although not without a mildly petulant look at Nijiro for his recalcitrance. He paged through his notebook looking at old drawings, casually passing the time.

A few moments later, bored, he remarked again on the gloom overhead.

When Chiaki commented on the likelihood of rain for the third time, Nijiro flipped shut his notebook, his irritation evident in the way the pages slapped together.

"Guess we'd better head back then," he sulked, evidently not yet finished with his drawing.

He and Yuu stood and Yuu handed the glasses-clad man his notepad to stow in his messenger bag. Nijiro had accepted being the group's pack mule, given he already carried his bag everywhere he went. The three left the park, Chiaki leading the way.

After they had made a few unexpected turns and the mangaka had expressed his meteorological prediction a fourth time, Nijiro had rolled his eyes, both annoyed and concerned.

"I hope you know the way," the black-haired man said, looking worriedly at the darkening sky.

"Sure," Chiaki assured him, sounding much less confident than his response implied. His eyes darted around at his surrounds, further detracting support from his claim.

Watching him, Yuu scoffed lightly. "I do, anyway," he told his fellow assistant. He took the lead and they turned a right that opposed the last left they had taken.

In unsettled unison three pairs of eyes, one shining blue, one tired-looking brown, and one fathomless ebony, redirected upwards towards the growing indigo thunderheads menacing down over them.

Quietly, nervously, Nijiro asked the question on all of their minds. "Do you think we'll get back before the rain starts?"

Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the cloud bank above them abruptly released the copious amounts of water built up within it and the downpour began. Nearly immediately soaked to the skin, the three let out several shrieks and uttered various words they would not have said in the presence of their mothers (except Nijiro, who had learned to swear from his mother instead of his father).

"Run!" exclaimed Yuu, leading the charge, and they dashed together through the sodden streets, Chiaki splashing Yuu from puddles and Nijiro defiantly telling Susanoo, god of storms, that it could rain as much as he wanted for all he cared, his bag was waterproof.

The teenage girl sitting at the inn's front desk boredly surfing the web got quite a surprise when the three guests entered, hair dripping and wind-whipped grins on their faces, not one article of clothing even a drop short of completely saturated with water. She recovered quickly though, blandly stating, "Yukatas are in your rooms," before returning to her spiritless internet odyssey. Yuu leading the way, the three made their way to their shared room. Once there, he threw open the door, anxious to change out of his wet clothes. He could hear Nijiro and Chiaki's teeth beginning to chatter as the cold set in; his own were starting to join the distressing rhythm.

"Stop!" cried Nijiro suddenly–he had discovered promised yukatas were centimeters from their toes: a few more steps and they would have dripped water all over the dry clothes. The three froze, paralyzed by their near-fatal near-error. Relaxing ever so slightly, Nijiro gingerly made his way around the robes and set his bag down lightly before vanishing and returning with a stack of towels from the bath.

"Try not to drip too much around the room," he said, tossing a towel each to his presently drenched roommates. Setting the towel on the floor in front of him, he nonchalantly peeled off his waterlogged shirt.

"Hey!" Yuu interrupted the shedding. "Don't you think you should go to the bath?"

Nijiro stopped what he was doing, which was twisting his shirt in preparation to wring the water out, and looked confused. "Why? We're all guys."

"Yeah, but you're about to wring your shirt out onto the carpet. I was thinking you might want go somewhere with tiled floors, Mr. Try-Not-To-Drip-Too-Much-Around-The-Room."

It was not the only reason he wanted Nijiro to stop stripping right in front of him, but it was the easiest to express. And if he had discovered the discouraged course of action the dark-eyed man had been about to embark on while staring at said man's attractive chest, that was completely irrelevant.

"Oops," Nijiro said, looking embarrassedly down at the unconscious action his hands had embarked on. "Sorry," he added, turning on his heel and making his way to disappear behind the door to the bath.

Chiaki, who had been tousling his hair dry with the towel, looked up at Yuu's words. "Good point," he said, following the black-haired man through the door.

 _Great_ , thought Yuu, _now it would seem weird if I_ didn't _follow them in there_. He found himself faced with the unenviable dilemma of waiting for Chiaki and Nijiro to change while himself dripping on the floor, in the process weakening his own statement of a moment before, or joining his friends and nullifying the remove he'd been attempting in the first place. Sinking into a pool of resignation, he strode towards the door in a less-than-decisive manner.

Luckily, by the time he entered Nijiro had already wrapped his body in towels and Chiaki was similarly clad in a fluffy white bathrobe. The brown-haired man was wringing out his pants semi-effectively while the black-haired man bent over the tub, trying to unravel the eternal mystery of how a stranger's bath controls worked.

"Hey, Yuu? Will you come take a look at this?" Nijiro asked without turning his head. Yuu went to his side and contemplated the hot and cold knobs with determination. He narrowed his eyes at them, then realized they bore some resemblance to the old bath his family had had before replacing it. Reaching out, he communicated his guess as to the correct method of requesting hot water to the controls, who responded favorably, gushing out a stream of steaming water.

"Nice one!" The black-haired man complimented, grinning at him. "You can be first for the bath then, if you want," he offered as a prize.

"Nah," Yuu replied.

"I'll take you up on that, if it was an open request," Chiaki cut in.

"Sure," Nijiro responded. "I want to go get some tea or something hot anyway." He left the bath, attempting simultaneously and unsuccessfully to dry his glasses on the towel hung about his shoulders.

Chiaki turned his back on Yuu, taking the opportunity to wash his hair before getting in the bath. Thus hidden from the eyes of his two friends, Yuu finally removed his soaking clothes and gladly dried his clammy, chilled skin. Drying his damp hair, he thought over Nijiro's words and decided something warm to drink was the best course of action.

"Hey wait up, rainbow princess!" he called out, turning to exit the bath. "I'm coming with!"


	14. Sake and Sketching

A/N: Don't own SIH. I hope you're enjoying the story so far, please enjoy chapter fourteen!

Chapter Fourteen: Sake and Sketching

"He fell asleep in the bath? What were you three doing today that had him so tired?"

Nijiro, Yuu, Chiaki and Hatori were sitting around the table that night; Nijiro telling Hatori the story of their day while the four waited for their dinner to arrive. Despite the fact that they had not had an exceedingly interesting day–as evidenced by Chiaki's falling asleep in the bath out of boredom–Nijiro had a way of telling it that made it seem like their grand adventure, and Hatori had become caught up in the black-gazed man's roller-coaster style of narration. On one hand, Yuu found himself perversely pleased at how much the exaggerated tale was making Hatori jealously imagine he had missed a day the three of them would remember for the rest of their lives. Simultaneously, though, he was having a hard time recognizing the inflated story as the events of the day they'd just lived through. It probably didn't help that he was zoning in and out, his mind only tangentially attached to what Nijiro was telling the tall editor. The rain falling outside the window had his thoughts drifting listlessly between mindlessly watching the sky's deluge and thinking hungrily about the katsudon he'd ordered.

"More sake, sir?" A female voice asked, and Yuu blinked the world back into focus to see the waitress had come around again. She looked uncomfortable, which meant their meals evidently weren't done yet. Still. Nevertheless, with the rain pouring down outside the four men weren't about to leave the eatery at the inn and make their way to another restaurant, especially not after waiting this long for their food.

"Mm, sure," Yuu replied. As his senses refocused themselves to his tablemates in front of him instead of the peaceful scene outside of the windows, he registered Nijiro was somehow still engaged in conversation with Hatori.

"You know, I'm really glad I covered my bike with a tarp before we left just as a precaution," the dark-haired man rambled. "It doesn't rain nearly this early in Sapporo, and it doesn't usually rain quite like this! I guess it pays to be careful, huh?"

"Could we get some more tako kara age?" Hatori interrupted him, seeing the waitress. Yuu had noticed a few times out of the corner of his eye that the editor had been powering through the deep-fried octopus appetizer; he suspected the man had skipped lunch so he could finish his immense workload earlier. Not for the first time, he pitied Hatori his overly busy job. It seemed as if the editors at Marukawa had ten times the work of a normal person; he would never want a job that killed one's free time like that. He preferred his own freelance work–it allowed him to work as much as he wanted for who he wanted. Best of all, it left him the free time he needed to stay a sane, functioning member of society.

Across the table from him, Chiaki giggled at Hatori's hunger. Or possibly it was because of all the alcohol he'd consumed. The table had been amassing quite a collection of bottles as they anticipated the arrival of their food.

"Absolutely, right away, sir," the waitress replied, glad of an excuse to hurry away from the weird table of famished, tipsy men. When she had seen the rain that day, her heart had sunk and she'd wanted to skip out on work. It was only her roommate-slash-coworker's begging (Nami had a crush on the chef and a bad habit of enforcing Moriko's work attendance in hopes of getting on her good side) and the thinness of her pockets that had changed her mind. So she had wrapped herself in her old raincoat, stolen Nami's umbrella (a bit of harmless revenge), and walked through the drenching downpour to work. By the time she found out Sayo had called in "sick", leaving Nami stranded in the kitchen with the epically useless Taiichi, it was too late.

Yuu, who knew none of this, was starting to get irritated that his dinner had not yet arrived. If he was honest with himself, he would also have had to admit he was annoyed with how much Nijiro was chatting it up with Hatori. Why couldn't he talk to someone else at the table? The tall man was already monopolizing Chiaki's attentions simply by being at the same table with him: it wasn't fair that Nijiro should pay attention to him too.

 _This is so boring_ , he thought, his mind tiring of the endlessly looping visual of falling rain.

Two endlessly deep black eyes alit on him and Yuu realized he'd said the last two words aloud.

"Why don't we play a game, then?" Nijiro suggested, pulling his notebook out of his ever-present bag. "We'll each draw half a drawing, then pass it to the person on our right and they'll finish it."

"Sounds fun!" Chiaki bubbled.

Hatori, however, seemed less excited by the prospect. "Don't forget not everyone around this table draws manga for a living," he grumbled, clearly reluctant to share his lacking sketching skills in such talented company.

"Luckily, you only have to draw half a picture," Nijiro reminded him, smiling craftily. "And you have a decidedly accomplished artist on either side of you to help."

As was often the way with Hatori, he was swayed less by the reasoned logic presented him and more by the way Chiaki beamed encouragingly at him. By the time the waitress returned to their table, bringing not only the extra tako kara age but also their steaming plates, four heads were bent over four pale sheets of Nijiro's notebook paper.

"Sirs?" the waitress had to ask loudly to get their attention.

Hatori, who was developing a new understanding of how hard it was to draw, was the first to raise his head. He elbowed the blue-eyed man seated beside him in the ribs and coughed loudly to attract the attention of those seated across the table.

"Dinner!" Yuu and Nijiro exclaimed in unison, both ravenous.

The four set aside their sketches–one gratefully, one reluctantly, and two hungrily–and exchanged their pencils for chopsticks.

"Now I know what I'm going to add to your drawing, Tori!" Chiaki proclaimed, stuffing a bite of the tori ramen he'd ordered into his mouth delightedly.

"Mph," Tori replied, cautioning the mangaka not to expect too much out of his picture and reminding him he didn't know what had been drawn yet while simultaneously inhaling a bite of curry rice.

"More sake, please!" Nijiro called after the retreating waitress, turning to Yuu to ask, "Can I have a taste of your katsudon?"

Yuu swallowed a large bite of breaded pork and fried onion before responding. "Only if I can have some of your beef stew as a trade."

"Sure!" Nijiro replied, cramming another spoonful of his meal into his waiting mouth. "Just make sure to ask me before I finish this, otherwise you'll be out of luck."

After that, the table descended into silence as the four eschewed talking, preferring to sate their appetites. Although the food was not particularly delectable (due to the absence of the chef, although the four men were unaware), the emptiness of their stomachs added that most important of all spices: hunger. They ate heartily, each glad he had chosen a warmer and more filling dish as a result of the inclement weather. A minute or so later, the waitress returned with their sake and they re-commenced adding to the repository of pallid porcelain bottles in the middle of their table.

When they finished, each placed his bowl to Nijiro's waiting hands and the black-haired artist piled them out of the way so they could finish their game of cooperative drawing.

"Everyone, try to finish your half soon and pass it to your partner," he instructed.

Hatori scratched a few more lines onto his page before grumbling the verbal equivalent of throwing his hands up in the air.

"Here," he glumly told Chiaki, releasing the picture to his cheery tablemate and sullenly declining to comment further.

Taking pity on Hatori and deciding not to make him wait too long with empty hands and an idle pencil, Yuu put the finishing touches on the rough drawing he had made of a cat. _There_ , he thought, _he only has to draw a background or something_. _It can't be that hard_. His pencil tracing the line of a whisker, he suddenly recollected Kariyama, Nijiro's cat, and wondered who was taking care of her while her owner was away. Sliding his paper across the table, he posed the question of Nijiro.

"Megu-chan," the dark-eyed man answered without looking up from his drawing. "She's a big fan of cats, as you might imagine based on her personality." Glancing over at Yuu, he smiled. "I'm impressed you remember I have a cat."

"Well, I've been over to your place enough times," Yuu told him.

"Not as many times as I'd like," Nijiro replied, taking a distracted drink of sake.

Only Chiaki, still busy with his sketch, abstained from giving Nijiro a distinct side-eye at his words. What was _that_ supposed to mean? A brief hush descended on the table as Hatori and Yuu tried to figure out if he meant what people commonly meant when they said those words, broken only when Chiaki finished drawing and sat up triumphantly.

"Here you go, Haru!" he declared, passing his picture across the table. Eyes freed from their previous occupation, he caught the pensive surveillance being kept over the last still-sketching member of their party. Engrossed as he had been in his art when the words that had motivated their attention had been uttered, he promptly misread the situation. "Not finished yet, Haru?" he chided playfully. "You were the one who said to finish up quickly and move our pictures along."

"I know, I know," the unfinished artist admitted, "I swear, I'm almost done."

Hatori and Chiaki, whose partners had completed their halves, were at least able to study the material they'd been presented and brainstorm what to add as a second half. They did so, leaving Yuu watching Nijiro as he carefully finished up his half of their shared drawing.

Yawning, the brown-eyed man refilled his petite cream-colored ceramic sake glass and took a languorous sip. Propping his chin in his hand, he let his mind begin to drift away again, this time in contemplation of the way Nijiro's slash of dyed hair cascaded into space as he bent over the page before him. He found the sight just as soothing as the cloudburst on the other side of the windowpane.

"Done!" Nijiro announced, arresting Yuu's descent into slumber and presenting him with a picture of the brown-eyed man sitting in front of a bowl of katsudon. In tiny characters in the bottom left-hand corner the onyx-eyed man had written _draw me and my dinner_ as his suggestion for completion.

Yuu didn't have a better plan, so he chose to go along with the recommendation. He started by sketching the bowl of beef stew sitting on the table in front of the dark-haired man, remembering how savory the meat had been in the few bites Nijiro had allowed him. When he had finished the simple part of the drawing, he moved onto the more complex section, turning slightly to inspect the man it would feature. A small smile edging onto his face, he decided to depict Nijiro in the act of telling him a funny story, outlining a profile view of the artist's grinning face. He left the eyes for last, knowing they would pose the most strenuous challenge. Illustrating something with that much depth–he had no problem drawing in three dimensions, but Nijiro's unfathomable eyes seemed to contain at least five. Luckily, with the man shown in profile, he only had to sketch one, but despite his stringent effort he was still left vaguely unsatisfied when he pulled his pencil from the paper the final time. For good measure, he erased the instructions in the corner, leaving only Nijiro's signature, to which he added his own.

Hatori was the first to display his drawing, showing the group he'd added a high-piled food bowl next to Yuu's cat drawing. Not a bad addition, Yuu thought.

"Kariyama!" Nijiro exclaimed, and Hatori, taking direction on how the cat's name was written, added the title to the top of the page. Next, Chiaki unveiled the picture he had completed with his boyfriend: it showed the sea with a small rudimentary boat at the horizon (by Hatori) and a figure on shore waving an oar above their head in an attempt to attract the attention of the faraway boat (by Chiaki). Yuu had to admit he was impressed by how, working together, they'd managed to draw something that wasn't half bad. It was something that allowed for Hatori's relative absence of artistic acumen while still providing room for Chiaki's abundance of skill to shine. It seemed to be characteristic of their relationship, the abilities of one making up for the shortfalls of the other.

Nijiro was third to exhibit his and Chiaki's shared work, a rather artistic rendition of a bonsai whose pot was wreathed by large hibiscus flowers. Finally, it was Yuu's turn to showcase the drawing he shared with Nijiro, both in the creation of it and on the page. Chiaki oohed appreciatively; Hatori jealously asked, "Did you two plan that?"

Choosing to pretend the sketch had come without conclusion tips, Yuu shook his head, guessing Nijiro would play along. His fellow assistant played his part flawlessly, acting shocked and amazed by Yuu's "ingenuity" at finishing the picture with a sketch of his tablemate.

"I look so happy!" he exclaimed, his expression unwittingly mirroring Yuu's picture at the words. "I'd love to know what you said to make me look like _that_." He laughed to himself, then added in what the sake he'd drunk prevented from being what must have been intended to be an undertone, "Although, realistically, it could be just about anything, since it's you."

The stares of the table were directed once more at the abyss-eyed man. He, however, noticed nothing, preoccupied as he was by the drawing Yuu had rendered with him. Across the table, Hatori and Chiaki exchanged a meaning-laden glance, Hatori raising an eyebrow questioningly at his boyfriend. Sparkling blue eyes wordlessly enjoined darker blue ones to look out of their corners at the brown-haired man across from them, to inspect his reaction. Yuu, meanwhile, was staring openly at Nijiro, surprisedly attempting to puzzle over the meaning encased in his assertion. Casting about for an answer, his eyes alit on the alabaster sake cup sitting beside his friend and he decided to pretend Nijiro's words were motivated by the sake he'd drunk. Even if he knew deep down that alcohol couldn't be the reason the dark-eyed man thought what he had said, only the calm manner in which he had declared them. Further consideration of such things, Yuu decided, could wait until his brain was no longer befuddled by sake and katsudon.

"I'm keeping this," Nijiro announced, unaware of the silent commotion that had followed his words. He promptly placed the image in his notebook, taking great care not to fold the edges as he did so. Once he was finished, he smiled guilelessly at his fellow vacationers, seeing they were all regarding him quite intently.

 _Further consideration indeed_ , thought Yuu.


	15. White Noise

A/N: I don't own SIH. Thank you for continuing to read and review and I hope you like chapter fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen: White Noise

"So?"

Nijiro came to, realizing he was staring intensely out the window at the rain, the focus of his eyes insistently demanding it to reveal the secrets of why it fell. He had always considered heavy rain at night soothing: it was a combination of how the sky seemed somehow deeper when dyed the particular indigo rain brought along with it and the rushing white noise. Tsumari, who in the course of her job had become friends with a few psychologists, had told him one day as they were sitting silently watching the rain together that some people listened to the sound for meditation, or to fall asleep, and he'd agreed watching and listening never failed to put him into something like a trance. Now, already partially divorced from his normal controlled thought processes by the alcohol he'd consumed, he had let himself be swallowed up by the calming rhythm of the water.

He pulled his eyes and his thoughts out of the rainstorm back into his head, sternly commanding his body to turn and address the source of the voice. It seemed to have asked a question and something in the tone told him it was one to which an answer was expected.

Skipping leisurely over the slumbering bodies of Yuu and Chiaki, his dark eyes lit on Hatori quietly observing him. The tall man was sitting at Chiaki's feet, seemingly keeping a guard over him, but at the moment, with his beautiful boyfriend asleep, another man was being examined by his estimating eyes. Leaving the rain behind him, Nijiro returned the stare unflinchingly. Most people, he had observed, couldn't stand to look into his eyes too long–even Joshuya had said it was like going down the rabbit hole, and he of all people could be trusted to know what such a thing was like. It was a test: Nijiro wanted to see how Hatori, who had already proven himself strong-willed, would react.

"So, do you want to go outside?" Hatori repeated himself, returning Nijiro's gaze as if it was normal for two people to eye each other as unblinkingly as they were.

Surprised by the editor's question, Nijiro immediately lost the staring contest, his eyelids flickering as he quickly processed the words.

"But–"

"It's raining? Yes, obviously. Put off?"

"By the rain? No." In spite of himself, Nijiro could hear how defensive his voice sounded. He didn't mind walking in the rain; actually, he liked it, but the way the conversation was being controllingly directed by Hatori made him want to push back against the formidable editor. He stood up quickly, giving the tall man a look that said _your move now_ , and declared, "Let's go."

Now the smallest sliver of a smile edged its way onto Hatori's face and the brown-haired man stood up, more slowly so as to not disturb the sleep at whose feet he sat. Turning, he made his way towards the door, leaving Nijiro to sidle around the sleeping men between them.

A slightly older male version of the web browsing front desk girl from that afternoon was sitting, kicked back as she had been, his attention more focused on his phone than the two men mysteriously coming out of the stairway to the guest quarters late at night. Probably her older brother, Nijiro thought, his eyes noting the similarity of their profiles. It seemed a tendency to boredom ran in the family, although he couldn't imagine sitting behind an inn's front desk at night would be very interesting, in the hotel boy's defense.

"Umbrellas?" he asked.

Wrenching his eyes away from his phone, the boy gave them a once over, then did a double take when he realized what Nijiro had requested.

"Seriously?" he replied, his face mockingly incredulous. "You have looked out the windows recently, right?"

"Yes, which is why we requested umbrellas," Hatori said, his already serious voice taking on a true no-nonsense tone.

Front desk boy coughed out a derisive laugh, raising his eyebrows, but when the two kept their faces straight and their wills iron he rummaged under the desk and produced two large navy umbrellas, handing one to each.

"Suit yourselves," he commented. Hatori and Nijiro ignored him, making their way out into the pouring night rain. Without speaking, they shared a mutual understanding that they were to go for a walk, letting the refreshingly cool and damp dark air sober and relax them.

The rhythmic muttering of the rain, persistent in the depths of their ears, precluded conversation as they strolled. Two pairs of eyes, one somber blue, one a black made of a rainbow of colors overlappingly combined, imbibed deeply of the innate methodical calm of the rain.

Finally, Nijiro broke the silence.

"Normally, I'd be sleeping by now," he told his walking companion. "The water is reminiscent of the sensation of bathing before bed, and the sound is so tranquil, but…" The rest he conveyed to Hatori by look.

The tiniest of smirks appeared on the tall man's face and he nodded. "Mm. I know what you mean: sometimes it's easy to sleep right by him and sometimes it's not."

Nijiro sighed deeply, kicking at a puddle. "Am I that obvious?"

Hatori's smile grew a little wider. "I wouldn't worry about it. He may have spent all that time watching and complaining about how dense Chiaki is, but he's the same."

After a few steps in silence, the tall man added, "Of course, it helps that I've been in your shoes." He stifled a rueful laugh, "Walked a lot longer than a mile in them, honestly. As you can see, I'm not exactly sleeping either."

Echoing the laugh, the dark-eyed man replied, "True enough."

Although it was the same city he had toured with Chiaki and Yuu that morning, it seemed at night an utterly different place. Perhaps it was the way the rushing sound of the rain blotted out any noises that sought to intrude on their conversation and kept potential passerby off the streets, or the fact that the only light they could use to navigate by came in glimmering pools of golden lantern-glow. The effect could also have come from the company: strolling with the serious and often-silent Hatori was a world of difference from the cheerfulness of Chiaki and Yuu's impossibly captivating calm. But Nijiro wouldn't have chosen any of those options had he been asked what made the night so disparate from the day. He would simply have set his endless whirlpool eyes to draw the darkness deep within, and so he did as he walked Kamakura's hushed streets.

"How long have you known?" he finally asked his sober-eyed companion.

Navy blue eyes flickered to glance at him before losing themselves in the rain. "I didn't figure it out myself originally, actually," Hatori confessed. "Reikita-kun told me. After that, though… it was obvious every time I saw you two together."

 _Reikita-kun?_ Nijiro wondered. _Oh, right, Reikita is Yumiko's last name_. Once he realized that, he was unsurprised she had been the first to discover his hidden feelings for his fellow assistant. After all, she had been the one to see Nijiro casually using Yuu as a pillow later the same morning she'd picked the two up from the club where Heihachiro worked. Looking back, he thought he might have even been drunk enough early that morning to have said something to her–or to a passed-out Yuu that she might have overheard. He wasn't angry at her for telling Hatori; he imagined it had probably happened by accident, a reassuring comment to Hatori to diffuse the editor's ever-burning jealousy for any man, especially a gay one, in such close proximity to his precious Chiaki.

"Tori," he asked, probably breaking the other's reverie, "how did you get together with Chi-sensei?"

They had reached the park where Yuu, Chiaki, and Nijiro had drawn together that day and stopped, staring out over the dark rainy expanse.

"I almost didn't," Hatori told him. "I had finally decided to give up on the thought of ever being together with him. I was even prepared to quit being his editor and have one of the other Emerald editors manage him. But I couldn't let him go without confessing. I thought he already knew–I thought I was being pretty obvious despite my efforts to hide my feelings–but it turned out he had no idea and was even willing to give a relationship with me a try, although he had formerly been straight."

Glancing over at him, Nijiro could see the unusually vibrant smile on Hatori's face as he talked about the love of his life. It was infectious: he could feel a similar expression growing on his own face. Looking out over the park below them, he wondered what they would look like to any passerby, two men standing in the pouring rain, grinning like fools. Almost like they had nary a care in the world.

Almost.

"Tori," he began again, breaking the silence a second time. "What do you know of Yuu's feelings for Chi-sensei?"

He didn't need night vision-capable cat's eyes to watch Hatori's smile shrivel back into his usual scowl–the change in air pressure as the editor's ever-present storm clouds returned was enough to know the moment was over. The tall man heaved a huge sigh, clearly reluctant to move to a topic he was rather less delighted by.

"Ask him yourself," he grumbled.

 _Should have seen that one coming_ , Nijiro thought.

Releasing a sigh of his own, the midnight-eyed man yawned broadly. It seemed sleep was finally catching up with him. Hatori, hearing the yawn, chuckled briefly, as if to say _now you're tired?_ , and suggested they turn back. Their walk back to the inn was one punctuated only by silence and the hushed sound of rain, each lost in his own thoughts.

When they re-entered the inn, the front desk boy was still acting as the symbol of ultimate boredom, sparing them less than half a glance before returning to the wormhole graciously provided by his phone. They left their thoroughly soaked umbrellas propped against the desk, their attendant making no move to receive them. Chiaki and Yuu were sleeping just as they had left them–they looked so similar that Nijiro had the strange feeling that no time had passed, that walking Kamakura's streets with Hatori had been nothing more than a dream. The rain-damp hem of his kimono clung all-too-realistically to his ankles, though. Switching it for another, he began to roll up the futon that the inn's staff had prepared for him. It wasn't as if he was going to use it anyway, and it would save him the task of rolling it up come morning.

From the far corner, two blue eyes caught on his work, but Hatori held back his inquiry as to what the dark-haired man was doing. Removing his glasses and placing them out of harm's way, Nijiro crawled under the edge of Yuu's futon, ever-conscious of Hatori's eyes burning a hole through him. Sticking his head up, he grinned at the man, his white teeth a contrast to the dark room.

"Good night, Tori-chan."

Hatori's silence was louder than any remark could have been.


End file.
